Edward Nigma, Private Investigator
by Pierre Gringoire
Summary: When Quincy Sharp begins to receive threatening letters, he reaches out to reformed super villain turned private investigator Edward Nigma for help. Bored and needing a paycheck, Nigma accepts. What seems relatively simple at first soon becomes much more complicated as Nigma meets faces from his past and begins to ponder the ultimate riddle: Just who is Edward Nigma?
1. Case File 0140

The alarm clock on the bedside table rang at 8:00 am, but Edward Nigma was already wide awake. He didn't sleep much nowadays. That was to be expected when one was in a transitional phase of their life. At least, that was what Edward told himself when the dreams and the memories wouldn't let him rest. It was getting less convincing day by day. Edward brought one hand to his face and rubbed his eyes in exhaustion and frustration. He'd only managed about three hours of sleep last night. He considered calling in sick for the day and telling his secretary to hold his calls. It was a tempting thought, but he shook it off and made his way across his well-kept if cramped apartment to his bathroom. He needed the money his private detective agency brought in. More importantly, he needed the distraction. He'd already spent too much time these last few weeks alone with his thoughts.

Edward began his morning routine like clockwork. He showered, shaved, brushed his teeth, slicked back his hair, and picked out his outfit for the day. Well, more like decided whether he'd wear green or black slacks and with what shirt color that day. He picked black slacks and the white dress shirt. Why mess with the classics?

Edward stood in front of his vanity mirror as he did his tie and took one last, appraising look. He was as well put together as he usually was, save for the dark circles under his eyes. He frowned as he looked at his reflection. His memories of his time as the Riddler faded in and out these days, but he swore that his eyes were a duller shade of green than they used to be. Wouldn't he be better off he he just-

"You're reformed," he told himself, firmly. "You don't need to leave riddles anymore. You get all the challenge you need from solving cases. You're happy." He raised an eyebrow at the last part. "Well, maybe that's an overstatement."

'The Riddler was dead, but Edward Nigma was alive and well.' At least, that was what he told the media, the police and anyone who would listen. The truth was that Edward Nigma was alive, but he wasn't well. He hadn't been well for a long time. Edward was honest enough about himself to admit that he'd probably never been what a so-called normal citizen of Gotham would call 'well' but his malaise had only gotten worse. Ever since Dr. Aesop, ever since Selina, Harley, and Ivy had-

"You don't need them, Edward," he rebuked himself. "You don't need anyone. What you need is a new case. Something challenging, something exciting! Something that has nothing to do with cheating spouses or missing pets."

Not that he'd turn them down. Cheating spouses and missing pets paid the bills after all. But what good was having a dazzling intellect when you had nothing to test it against? And even if he had no one and nothing else, Edward had a dazzling intellect that was just begging to be used. With those intrusive thoughts put out of mind, for now, Edward put on his green suit coat, bowler hat and purple tinted glasses, picked up his cane from the hook it hung on by the front door and made his way to his office

It was only six blocks between Edward's apartment and his office. Even taking into account his routine stop at the corner deli for coffee and a copy of that morning's Gotham Gazette, it only took him 20 minutes to reach the building. As he walked up to the front entrance, he saw something out of the ordinary. A large, black car was parked in front of the building. Edward thought he could make out a driver, but the windows were rolled up and tinted, preventing him from getting a detailed look. Edward paused to consider this development, taking a long swig out of his coffee cup. Either he had a big name potential new client or the feds had decided to raid his office. Hoping for the former, Edward made his way up the steps and climbed the flight of stairs that led him to his office.

As he walked down the hallway, he could hear two voices from his office.

"-Isn't he here yet? I do have a schedule to keep." That was a man's voice, older and with a distinct pompous tone. Edward furrowed his brow. He knew that voice, from somewhere. He just couldn't quite pin it down.

"He should be here anytime now. Mr. Nigma usually comes in at around 9:00 am." That was Tracy, Edward's newest secretary. A perky, pretty girl, even if she couldn't keep his files organized half as well as Wanda could. One more thing to hold against the Gotham City Sirens.

When Edward opened the door to his office, he was confronted with the sight of his secretary attempting to placate a balding, slightly overweight older gentleman, wearing a gray suit and wielding a cane of his own. As he entered, the two of them turned to look at him and Edward realized in an instant just who this man was.

"Good Morning Mr. Nigma!" Tracy chirped. "I was just telling this man that you were on your way! Oh! This is-"

"I know who he is, Tracy," Edward said, not unkindly. "Quincy Sharp. I must admit, I never expected to see you here."

Quincy Sharp merely nodded. "Edward. Good to see you again. I trust you're doing well?"

 _Hardly. And since when were we on a first-name basis?_ "Well enough, thank you," Edward replied. He tossed the now empty coffee cup into the wastebasket by the door. "So," he said, mustering up as much bravado as he dared. "What brings the warden of Arkham Asylum to my detective agency?"

Sharp cleared his throat. "May we speak in private?" he asked, gesturing to Tracy.

Well, this was promising. Of course. Why don't you go on ahead into my office? I'll meet you there momentarily."

Sharp did as Edward bade him. As he disappeared into the office, Edward turned to Tracy, who had sat back down at her desk.

"Tracy, if anyone calls, be a dear and take a message, will you?"

Tracy nodded. "Yes, Mr. Nigma."

Edward turned to follow Sharp into his office when a thought occurred to him.

"Tracy? If a Selina Kyle calls, tell her I'm not here."

Tracy looked confused but nodded just the same. "Yes, Mr. Nigma."

"Good girl," Edward said, walking into his office and shutting the door behind him.

Sharp was looking at the various news articles framed on the walls. He didn't look at Edward when he walked in instead commenting, "I see you've been keeping busy."

"Well, I do my best," Edward said as he hung his cane up on the coat hook. He crossed the room, placing the newspaper on his desk. He took a seat in the office chair behind his desk and looked quizzically up at Sharp. "Forgive me warden, but I don't think you came here just to pay a visit."

Sharp turned to look at him. "No, of course not. Well, Edward, I'll come right to the point. I'm in need of your assistance."

Edward's interest was piqued immediately. Whatever it was had to be serious, if his former jailer had come to him for help. He opened his desk drawers to pull out a notepad and a ballpoint pen. Once he was ready to write, he gestured to Sharp. "Go on," he said.

"I trust you're aware that I'm running a campaign for mayor?"

Edward wasn't interested in politics. He had never been, but he would have to be deaf, dumb, and blind to miss the constant campaign advertising. "You're not asking me to join your staff, are you?" he asked sardonically.

Sharp's face flushed a bit at that. "Certainly not! Er, no offense Edward. No, the reason I came to you is much more serious. For the past two weeks, my campaign office and my temporary office back at the asylum have been receiving anonymous threats."

 _This just keeps getting better and better. "_ Death threats?"

"Not exactly," Sharp admitted. "But they've been making rather slanderous claims about how I run the asylum and about my personal character. The latest one demanded that I 'take responsibility' or some nonsense like that." Sharp paused to give Edward an intense look. "I'm running a serious campaign, Edward. I intend to cleanse this city of crime and I will not be deterred by some miserable little punk with too much time on his hands."

Edward was becoming increasingly unnerved by Sharp's tone. "Has the GCPD been made aware of this?" he asked.

"Of course," Sharp huffed. "My campaign manager reached out to the GCPD. He was told that it was probably a prank. Frankly, Edward, I'm very reluctant to trust the GCPD with my own safety, let alone the security of my campaign. I doubt anyone there knows what they're doing. "

 _That's rich, coming from the man who was warden during the worst massacre in Arkham's history,_ Edward thought. There was another, more vindictive part, however, that completely agreed with the warden's assessment of the GCPD. "How frequently have you been receiving these letters?"

"At first, it was just one every three days. Now, it's one every day. We've been keeping them in a file at campaign headquarters. We've kept this out of the media, for the time being. The last thing I need is a scandal."

 _And yet, here you are._ Edward placed the notepad back down on his desk and then looked directly at Sharp. "What is it exactly that you'd like from me?"

"I'd like you to investigate these threats. Find out who's been sending them. I'd also like for you to work with us on improving security for the campaign. You'll be well compensated, I assure you."

Edward leaned back in his chair, considering the offer. It was a step up from the cases he'd been working, that was for sure. And the money was promising. There was just one question he needed to be answered.

"Why me?"

Sharp looked at him, confused. "Why?" he repeated.

"You said yourself that you were running a hard anti-crime campaign. Wouldn't the presence of a former criminal on your payroll play against you? Not just any former criminal at that, but the Riddler? Especially with what happened at the asylum last year?"

Sharp looked like he didn't know how to respond to this. In another life, Edward would have been amused with the warden's ignorance. Now, he was quickly becoming exasperated. Finally, Sharp spoke.

"Quite the contrary Edward. You've been reformed for some time now, haven't you? I consider you one of Arkham's greatest success stories. Your presence would only serve to prove to our opposition that our methods work."

 _I'd sooner have myself recommitted than give you or anyone at that asylum any credit for my reform_. Edward's hand clenched involuntarily, nearly crushing his pen. _Keep it together Edward,_ he thought. _No sense in alienating the ignoramus with the deep pockets._

Sharp continued, either not noticing Edward's reaction or not caring. "Besides, weren't you still in a coma when that unfortunate incident occurred?"

"I was," Edward admitted. That wasn't a period of time in his life he wanted to talk about, especially with Sharp.

"I think we could help each other immensely Edward. If you were seen to be helping me, it could go a long way towards convincing certain parties of the legitimacy of your reform."

Edward tapped the pen against his chin, deep in thought. Sharp sounded sincere, but Edward's memories of the man at Arkham were unpleasant at best and the more time Edward spent with the man, the more he remembered why. It didn't come as a surprise to him that Sharp had been threatened. The line of people who wanted to take a swing at the pompous, self-aggrandizing coward was probably forming around the block. _Two years ago,_ Edward thought wryly, _I'd have been at the front of that line._

Sharp did have one good point, though. Most of the senior staff at the GCPD, Gordon included, treated Edward as if he was a novelty at best and one step away from leaving people in death traps again at worst, despite all the cases he'd solved. To say nothing of what Batman thought. A temporary working relationship with the front-runner for the next mayor of Gotham would go a long way to prove to them that he was serious about reforming. More importantly, it would go a long way to prove that fact to himself.

 _Besides,_ Edward thought to himself. _You've been wanting to move to a bigger apartment for a while._

"Well, Edward? Is it a deal?"

Edward looked up at Sharp. Well, what did he have to lose? "Deal."

Sharp looked far too pleased with himself. "Excellent! I think we'll make a good team Edward."

Edward got up out of his chair to guide Sharp back towards the waiting room. "You can speak to Tracy regarding the details of the contract. I'd like to see those letters as soon as possible."

"Of course. I have them at my campaign headquarters. Are you free tomorrow evening? We can meet there."

"I'll look at my schedule and get back to you." Edward looked over at Tracy's desk. "Tracy? Could you go over the paperwork with Mr. Sharp?"

Tracy did just that as Edward walked back to his office, feeling better than he had in weeks. This case was just what he needed: a large paycheck, publicity and a distraction from false friends and his own self-doubts. He sat back down at his desk and opened his drawers again, this time, pulling out a laptop. Once the computer was booted up, he began typing out his latest case notes.

CASE FILE #0140. CLIENT: WARDEN QUINCY SHARP. CASE DETAILS AS FOLLOWS...

Once the contract was signed, Quincy Sharp left the office and returned to the parked car in front of the building. He climbed into the right rear passenger seat and gave the order for the driver to return to the asylum. Or what remained of it, after that fiasco with the Joker. Truth be told, he really didn't see the point. Still, appearances needed to be kept.

"Well?"

Sharp looked up at the person sitting on the left passenger seat.

"He agreed to take the case," Sharp answered. "He'll be coming to headquarters tomorrow to begin the investigation."

Dr. Hugo Strange smiled at that. "Excellent."

Sharp wasn't quite convinced. He'd meant what he said when he told Nigma that having him on payroll could be seen as beneficial to them both, but Sharp chafed at the idea of being beholden to a freak like him.

"What's troubling you Quincy?" Dr. Strange asked as if he'd read his thoughts.

Sharp hesitated but answered. "Are you sure this is a good idea Hugo? Nigma may be reformed, but he's still not what I'd call stable."

"It may not be pleasant, having to spend time with him. But I assure you, it is necessary. We need to know just what kind of man he is, without the trappings of the Riddler to prop him up." Dr. Strange looked over at Sharp.

"Besides," he said in a soothing tone. "The voters will be impressed, seeing you with a former rogue in your power."

That thought placated Sharp. When he was still incarcerated, Nigma had always behaved as if his intelligence made him above everyone else, from the guards, to the doctors, to Sharp himself. And now the arrogant son of a bitch was working for him. How things changed.

"Yes, I suppose you're right Hugo. You will keep an eye on him though? Just in case?"

Dr. Strange let out a deep chuckle. "Of course, Quincy. I'm looking forward to it."


	2. Case Background

The following evening, at 6:00, Edward arrived at Sharp's campaign headquarters, as promised. He parked his car in front of the drab brick building and walked towards the front entrance, taking note of the layout. One door entrance, large glass windows that afforded an easy view of the volunteers and staffers inside and no security in sight. It was no wonder that someone had been able to drop the letters off without being seen. Even now, less than six feet away from the entrance, no one had picked up on his arrival.

"Mr. Nigma!"

Edward looked towards the noise. At the corner of the building stood a mousy looking young man, trying and failing to be discreet in waving him over. One of Sharp's staffers no doubt. Edward walked over to him.

"Thanks for coming, Mr. Nigma," the young man said, awkwardly extending his hand out for a handshake. Edward took it, briefly. The man gestured behind him.

"Warden Sharp asked me to take you through the side entrance. So you wouldn't distract our volunteers. Please, follow me."

Edward had something to say about that but held his tongue. The staffer turned and walked towards the side entrance. After regaining his composure, Edward followed. The two of them entered the building and walked down the hallway.

"I saw you once at the Metropolitan Art Museum," the staffer said, breaking the silence.

"Did you now?" Edward responded with supreme disinterest. There was usually only one way these conversations tended to go.

"Yeah," the staffer continued. "You'd almost taken the entire Faberge egg collection until Batman showed up. I didn't think people could bounce off of marble floors like that."

Edward gritted his teeth slightly. Always, always, it came back to _him._ "Well, what can I say? I'm a very durable genius."

"I guess. Is it true they had to rebuild your skull?"

Edward abruptly grabbed the staffer's shoulder and turned him around to face him. "Young man," he said, in a cold, imperious tone. "If you're going to survive long in politics or in Gotham for that matter, you need to learn a little discretion." He then fixed the impertinent young man with a glare. "Get my meaning?"

The staffer gulped and nodded. Satisfied, Edward let him go. "R-right. Sorry, Mr. Nigma. The Warden's office is just this way," the poor man stammered.

Less than one minute later, the two of them had arrived at Sharp's office. The staffer opened the door for the two of them and as soon as Edward had stepped inside, all but run down the hall in the opposite direction. Edward smiled a bit. He really was making an effort to reform, but every so often it felt good to let a little of the old rogue out. There were three men in the room. Sharp himself, sitting at his desk as pompous as ever, a young and slightly fidgety looking security guard and a middle-aged man in a suit and tie holding a briefcase.

"Ah, Edward," Sharp greeted him. "Glad to see you here. You had no trouble finding the place, I see." Sharp gestured to the man with the briefcase. "I'd like to introduce you to my campaign manager, Brian Kocen-" Kocen gave Edward a sharp, short nod. "And my campaign security, Dennis Baxter." The security guard just stared at Edward with wide eyes. Sharp frowned. "Dennis, don't be rude!"

This seemed to awaken the security guard. "Sorry, Warden. Mr. Nigma."

"That's alright, Dennis," Edward said, feeling magnanimous. "I know, I can be a bit overwhelming. So, Warden," Edward turned towards Sharp. "Do you have those letters for me?"

"Of course. Brian?"

Kocen set his briefcase down on the desk and opened it. "These are the letters that we received here," he droned, placing five letters in plastic bags onto the desk. He put another five letters in a separate pile. "These are the letters we received at the asylum."

Edward stepped forward to look at the letters. "Why are they in plastic bags?"

"We wanted to make sure that we left as much evidence on them as possible," Kocen explained. "Do you think that you could pull fingerprints from them?"

He could certainly try, but unless they were a complete imbecile, Edward was certain that whoever left them wore gloves. Edward took a look at the piles. "Are these in chronological order?"

Kocen nodded. "Yes." He pointed at the piles. "The first letters were received at the campaign office on the 10th and the asylum on the 11th. The second ones were received on the 13th and the 14th. Headquarters and the asylum have each been getting a letter every day since this Monday. These last ones we received this morning."

"Do you know what time they've been arriving? Has that been consistent?"

Kocen nodded. "I've been finding them slid under the front door of campaign headquarters when I arrive in the mornings. I get here at 7:00 am every morning."

Edward made a mental note of that, then turned to Dennis. "And what time exactly do you get here?"

The security guard shrugged. "About 9 am. I think."

"And how long do you stay typically?"

"Until about 5."

"So there's no one here at night? Is there a security camera?"

"We ordered one to be installed after we received the third letters," Kocen said. "The company said that they would send someone here tomorrow afternoon."

Edward nodded. "And what about the asylum?"

"I've been finding them myself," Sharp stated. "Slid under my door at my office."

 _So, whoever this is knows their way around Arkham, including how not to be caught by security_ , Edward mused to himself. _This could actually be a bit of a challenge._

Edward then turned his attention to the piles that Kocen had made. Keeping the piles separated, Edward opened the bags containing the letters sent to the campaign office and carefully removed each letter from its envelope, arranging them in chronological order on the desk. He did the same with the letters sent to the asylum so that there were two parallel lines on the desk. Edward carefully looked at each letter. They were typed, in large font on standard printing paper. He wouldn't get much information out of them physically.

The messages were where the real evidence was. Each letter had the same message printed: **_YOU ARE A HYPOCRITE AND A LIAR. YOU CLAIM THAT YOU ARE AGAINST CRIME BUT YOU ARE PROTECTING A MURDERER. WE WANT THE TRUTH. WE WANT JUSTICE. TAKE RESPONSIBILITY AND TELL THE TRUTH._**

Edward rubbed his chin in thought. So far, his first hunch about this seemed to be panning out.

"Well, Edward?" Sharp interrupted. "Any thoughts?"

"I can say a few things with absolute certainty," Edward said, tapping his pointer finger on the desk. "The first one being this: These letters weren't written by any of the super criminals. Whoever wrote this is a regular citizen."

"How are you so sure?" Dennis asked. Edward had nearly forgotten he was in the room.

"The rogues are like any other group of criminals Dennis. They each have their own signature. And these letters don't match any of them. Besides," he said counting off on his fingers. "Of the assorted rogues, Joker, Dent, Fries, and Tetch are currently in Arkham. Whoever's behind this has to have greater freedom of movement than that. Harley and Ivy are on the outside," Nigma's tone became darker as his fist clenched. "But I know from experience that they don't warn you before they stab you in the back. Crane's not accounted for, but this doesn't match his MO-"

"Jonathan Crane is dead," Sharp interjected impatiently. "He was killed by Waylon Jones back at the asylum. Didn't you know that?"

It took all of Edward's willpower and thoughts of the penthouse this job's paycheck would help him save up for to not rap Sharp on the head with his cane. "Of course I knew," Edward managed to hiss out. "But I also know that his body was never recovered. In this town, you aren't dead without a body." Edward took a breath to calm himself. "But we're getting off track here. If any of my former associates were involved, we'd already know it. They aren't exactly a subtle bunch. No, judging from how easily they've been able to avoid Arkham's security-" _Too easy_ , Edward thought. _Didn't you learn anything from last year?_ "-And their knowledge of the layout of both the asylum and this office, whoever sent these letters is either a current or former employee or knows someone who is."

"One of my own staff? Are you sure Edward?" Sharp asked.

"Almost positive," Edward replied matter of factly. "To tell the truth, I suspected an inside job the moment you told me that these letters had been found at Arkham. It's one thing for a political opponent or a run of the mill crank to leave letters at a campaign office without being discovered. It's quite another for them to manage to leave them at Arkham Asylum unseen. There's not very many people who can manage that without being an insider," Edward let a bit of self-satisfaction creep into his voice. "Or a genius like myself."

"But why would an employee do something like this now?" Kocen asked. "And what do they mean by 'protecting a murderer'?"

Edward looked almost approvingly at the campaign manager. Finally, someone was addressing the elephant in the room. "The answer to both of those questions is on your calendar gentlemen." The three men just looked at Edward with confused expressions on their faces. Edward had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. He knew he was five steps ahead of the average Gothamite but _really_. "What event will Warden Sharp be headlining this upcoming Monday?"

The warden just continued to look confused, but a look of realization spread on Kocen's face. "The memorial ceremony for Arkham! Next Monday is the one year anniversary of the Joker's break-out!"

Edward pointed his cane at Kocen. "Correct sir!"

"Not that business again," Sharp muttered. "That matter is closed."

"Begging your pardon Warden, but clearly it isn't," Edward said. "Whoever sent these letters has unfinished business from that event. It's no coincidence that they started sending these letters less than a month before the first anniversary."

"Well what do they want from me?" Sharp sputtered. "I've taken every possible measure to improve security at the asylum! I've made security the entire centerpiece of my campaign! What do they gain by targeting me?"

"Which brings me to my final deduction," Edward said. "You aren't the real target Warden. You've been receiving these letters because whoever has been sending them needs information from you. Namely, the identity of the 'murderer' you've been hiding."

"I haven't been hiding any murderer!" Sharp almost shouted, defensively. "Whoever's been writing them is obviously unhinged."

"That may be true," Edward admitted. "But unhinged or not, they have a definite grievance against whoever this person is. And judging by the increase in the amount of letters they've been sending, they're escalating. If they can't get to the 'murderer' in these letters, they may content themselves with you Warden."

Sharp's face turned pale at the implication. His slumped forward a bit in his chair. "What do you need from me Edward?"

Edward pulled out his notebook and a pen from his breast pocket. "First of all, I'm going to need a list of all of your current employees at Arkham, as well as any former employees who were there at the time of the break-out."

Sharp nodded. "Of course. You'll have that list by tomorrow morning."

"Secondly," Edward said. "I'd like to hear your account of the incident. I've already done a fair bit of background research myself, but I know for a fact that not every detail made it to the general public."

Sharp glared at him. "Is that really necessary? I've already said all that needs to be said."

Edward had had just about all he could take from this pompous idiot. "Either you tell me or your employees will," Edward said testily. "And somehow I don't think they'll paint you in quite as good a light as the media has the past year."

Sharp's face reddened. "How dare you-"

"I'm sure he means well," Kocen intervened. "He just needs as much information as you can give him Quincy." Kocen looked at Edward then. "Anything he says is off the record, right?"

"I'm a private investigator, not a police officer," Edward grumbled. "I do have some discretion. And I'd like to remind you that we did sign a confidentiality agreement." Of course, any juicy details Edward gleaned from this would be stored away for potential future use, but no one here needed to know that.

Sharp still didn't look happy, but he relented. "Fine. What exactly would you like to know?"

 _Finally._ "How exactly did the Joker break free?"

"He'd compromised the security system somehow," Sharp explained. "He and that dreadful Quinzel woman managed to turn the security system against us."

"That was Wayne Tech wasn't it?" Edward asked. "That couldn't have been easy. Not just any hacker could have pulled that off."

"Wasn't it you?" Dennis asked.

Edward sighed just a bit. "No Dennis, although it's certainly something I'm capable of. You may not be aware of this, but I was in a coma during this unfortunate event. I have a plate in my skull to prove it."

Dennis shrank back a bit. Sharp cleared his throat before continuing. "Well, they had inside help. A security officer named Frank Boles was working with the Joker. He helped break him and his men out."

Edward wrote the name in his notebook. This was promising. "And where is this Frank Boles now?"

"Dead," Sharp said vindictively. "He was killed by the Joker at some point during the break out. Good riddance."

Well, so much for that lead. "Were any of the other security staff involved?"

"None that we could ever prove," Sharp answered. "Most of them died during the break out. The ones who survived have mostly left for other jobs."

"Even Aaron Cash?"

"We terminated him after the incident. It was his incompetence that led to the disaster."

Somehow Edward doubted that was true, but he didn't press the issue. He'd never liked Cash anyway. He made a mental note to put Cash at the top of the suspect list. "And about those monsters Joker created. How exactly did he manage that?"

Sharp turned a bit cagey. "He'd gotten access to an experimental chemical we were developing to help treat our more...extreme patients. I assure you, it was never meant to be used the way that degenerate used it."

At the mention of the chemical, a light went off in Edward's brain. _I know this from somewhere._ "TITAN, wasn't it?"

Sharp looked surprised. "How did you know that Edward?"

 _How do I know that? Where have I heard it before?_ "Good investigative work," Edward lied. "So," he continued before anyone had time to question this, "Who was the doctor who was helping Joker?"

"Doctor?" Sharp repeated dumbly.

"Well yes," Edward said a bit impatiently. "Joker's a talented chemist, but he's not capable of manufacturing something like that. Not without someone else's help. And since none of the rogues I can think of with that kind of expertise have been named as being involved, it must have been a doctor."

"No doctor at Arkham would willingly be involved with that psychotic clown."

 _Interesting choice of words there._ "How about unwillingly?"

Sharp said nothing, fiddling with his cane. Finally, he spoke. "I'm not at liberty to comment. There were some legal proceedings involved."

 _Well, there's ways around that._ "Of course. Just tell me one thing: is this doctor still alive?"

Sharp hesitated. "Yes. But that's all I'll say on this matter."

 _I think I've found my murderer._ "How many people at the asylum knew about this project?"

"Is that really relevant?"

Did Sharp want Edward's help with this case or not? Edward spoke slowly, as if he were speaking to a small child. "It's relevant Warden, because whoever left these letters wants information from you regarding what happened at the asylum and who was involved. If they already know about the TITAN, then they would already know who this doctor is and wouldn't need to send anything to you."

Dennis snorted a bit. Sharp shot him a withering glare and the poor security guard looked down at his feet. Sharp turned back to Edward. "Only myself and our most senior staff knew. I don't know how Joker found out about it."

Edward had a few guesses, but none of them were strictly relevant. Yet. Still, this information did rule a few people out. And a lot of people in. He was looking for someone relatively low level, but who had enough knowledge of asylum security to be able to avoid being detected. Edward closed his notebook and put it back into his pocket. He had work to do, starting with finding the 'murderous' doctor. "I think I have all the information I need for now," he said, addressing Sharp, Kocen and Dennis. "I'd like to take the letters with me for further examination. And I'll need that list as soon as possible."

"Of course." Sharp nodded. Kocen quickly gathered up the letters and placed them back into the briefcase, then handed it to Edward. Edward turned to leave when Sharp's voice called him back.

"Edward, there's one more thing. I'm having a benefit for my campaign this Friday evening at Lacey Towers. Most of my senior staff will be attending. I'd like you to be there as well, to assist with security."

Edward considered this. There were many places he'd rather be than at a political fundraiser with Quincy Sharp, but this would allow him the opportunity to observe the staff without having to set foot near Arkham. And there'd be media presence too. Always a positive thing.

"Very well," Edward agreed. "What time should I be there?"

"Dennis can meet with you at six." Sharp turned to Dennis. "Is that alright Dennis?"

Dennis looked a little bug eyed at Edward. "Yeah, sure Mr. Rid-Mr. Nigma, sorry."

Edward let the Freudian slip go. Dennis wasn't the first and he certainly wouldn't be the last. "I'm looking forward to it already," he said dryly.

A knock at the door interrupted their meeting. The staffer that Edward had frightened away earlier poked his head inside, blanching a bit when he noticed Edward was still there. "Jack Ryder is here, Mr. Sharp."

"Oh good," Sharp said, getting up out of his chair. "I have an interview scheduled with him. Care to join me Edward? We can announce our partnership together."

Edward grinned. "Lead the way, Warden."

"Have you thought any more about Commissioner Gordon's offer?"

Dr. Penelope Young, former head of research at Arkham, now returned to private practice, looked up from her cup of tea to the other woman sitting across from her. She frowned slightly before answering.

"I have, Joan."

"And?"

Penelope sighed. "I don't think I'm going to take it."

"Why not?"

Penelope looked back down at her cup. She hadn't actually taken a sip of it. "I don't understand why Gordon wants me to consult with the GCPD. I shouldn't still have my license after what happened at the asylum." _I shouldn't even be alive,_ she thought. The bomb that Joker had placed in Sharp's safe should have killed her. It nearly had, even after Batman had pulled her away in time. She'd been in the hospital for weeks afterwards, and when she'd gotten out, there was an inquiry waiting for her. Much to her surprise, she'd been cleared of all legal liability and had been allowed to resign. The board had even agreed to keep her name out of the official report on the incident. Probably to keep people from taking too close a look at Arkham's medical practices, she'd thought cynically. She had taken a long sabbatical after that, in order to recover from the incident. Physically, she had recovered. Mentally however? She would still wake up at night in a cold sweat, visions of the Joker and of the monsters she'd helped him create as clear to her as the night she'd first seen them. Still, she was lucky compared to other people. Too many other people. _I shouldn't even be alive._

Joan's voice cut through her thoughts. "You have a lot of experience working with the super criminals. That can help out the GCPD quite a bit."

"So do you, Joan."

Joan Leland shrugged. "You've also got a lot of insight into how Sharp's been running the asylum. I don't have that."

Penelope nodded slightly at that. Joan had been a mentor to her when she'd started interning at the asylum. She'd resigned about a month after Sharp had taken over, citing concerns with the direction Sharp was taking the asylum. If Penelope had had any sense, she would have gone with her.

"Besides," Joan continued. "That's not what's really bothering you."

Penelope idly swirled the tea cup around. "Fine," she admitted. "I don't think I'm ready for a position like this."

"If not now, when?" Joan prodded. "You've been shut away in private practice for months. Other than me and your patients, you've barely seen or talked with anyone. You hardly even leave your apartment anymore when you don't see patients. I have to come here to see you. You can't tell me that you're happy with that."

Penelope frowned a bit. "I'm not unhappy. I just..." She paused, trying to figure out the best way to phrase this without alarming her former mentor. "I don't think I can trust my own judgement anymore. It's one thing with my private patients. But with criminals...I overestimated my abilities before and people died. I can't risk that again."

Joan reached over and placed a hand on Penelope's shoulder reassuringly. "I understand that. Better than you might think. But you can't let that control your life Penelope. You've been given a second chance. This may be the opportunity you need to get your life on track again."

Penelope looked up and smiled at her, faintly. "I'll think about it." Joan smiled at her and got up to wash out her tea cup.

"I got a call from Sharp the other day," Penelope said when Joan returned to her seat in the living room.

"Really? What did he want?"

"He invited me to his campaign benefit Friday night. He's called up pretty much everyone from the asylum to come. I think he's going to try to ask me to come work for him again."

"And what did you say?"

Penelope took a sip from her cup finally. "I told him I'd think about the benefit. As for a job offer, that's a definite no. I can't see that place again."

"Good." Joan said. "I know I've said that your ambition could be a good thing, but Arkham under Sharp brings out the worst in you."

Penelope had to agree with that. "I think it brings out the worst in everyone. Sharp said I could bring a guest. Would you want to come?"

Joan shrugged. "Why not? It'll be good to see some of the staff again. And it would be good for you to get out a bit."

Penelope couldn't help but roll her eyes a bit as she reached for the television remote. She appreciated Joan's visits and her insights, she really did, but she could be worse than her mother at times. Still, Penelope thought. It may be nice to get out for a change. She'd never been especially close to any of her former co-workers, but it would be good to see them again. At least none of her former patients would be there. As soon as the TV powered on, she changed it to the Gotham News Network. Speak of the Devil, Jack Ryder was doing an interview at Sharp's campaign headquarters with Sharp himself...and someone Penelope never thought she'd see anywhere near Sharp.

"I'm Jack Ryder and I'm here with Mayoral Candidate Quincy Sharp and surprise guest, The Riddler himself."

"Pleasure as always Ryder," Nigma interrupted. "But it's Edward Nigma, private investigator now."

"Right," Ryder said, not really caring. "So, what brings you to Sharp's campaign? Bringing out the former super villain vote?"

"Now now Mr. Ryder," Sharp said, awkwardly patting Nigma on the back. Even through the TV screen, Penelope could see the former rogue tense at the contact. "Everyone deserves a second chance. Mr. Nigma's reformation is proof that our methods at Arkham work. As a matter of fact, to show there are no hard feelings between us, Mr. Nigma will be at my campaign benefit Friday night to collaborate with us on security and-"

Penelope dropped her tea cup onto the floor in shock.


	3. The Fundraiser

The response to Sharp and Nigma's joint appearance was immediate and decidedly mixed. While many newscasters debated the political ramifications of Sharp's hiring of Nigma, the Gotham populace were divided between vague interest, contempt for Sharp or Nigma, or both, or just plain indifference. There were some people however, who were wary of this news.

One of these people was Commissioner Gordon. He'd watched the interview in his office at the GCPD with a mixture of contempt and unease. Afterwards, he'd shut the door and waited. He had a feeling his friend would be by soon to discuss this.

He didn't have to wait that long. About two hours after the interview had concluded, Gordon heard the window blinds rustle and the sound of heavy footsteps entering the room. He looked up and greeted his guest with a brief nod.

"I take it you saw that interview?"

"I did," was Batman's gruff reply.

Gordon removed his glasses briefly to rub the bridge of his nose. "Just what we need. Sharp and Nigma together. Those two never met a camera they didn't like. This benefit on Friday's going to be an absolute media circus."

"I'm more concerned with why Sharp reached out to Nigma."

"Could just be Sharp politically posturing. He's all but taken the credit for what you did back at the asylum. Maybe he thinks he can take credit for Nigma's reform too. As for Nigma well, God knows he likes attention, even if it's from someone he can't stand."

Batman didn't look convinced. "I don't think Nigma would let himself be used by Sharp like that, free publicity or not. There has to be something more than a paycheck for him in this. Has the Sharp campaign reported any threats?"

Gordon shook his head. "None that I've heard. Truth be told though, I don't think Sharp would tell us if there were. He hasn't exactly been friendly towards GCPD ever since last year. Still, I can't see him hiring Nigma to help. Before tonight, he hadn't mentioned Nigma once during his whole campaign."

"Maybe it wasn't Sharp's idea." Batman murmured.

Gordon turned to look at him. "What do you mean?"

Batman turned towards the window, ignoring Gordon's question. "I'll look into the benefit on Friday. Whatever's going on, I'll find out." And with that he left the office, leaving Gordon with unanswered questions and the beginnings of a headache. Whatever the reasoning behind Nigma and Sharp's partnership, it meant bad things for the GCPD. Gordon could just feel it.

 _Gotham City_

 _Friday_

 _6:30 pm._

"Are you sure you still want to go?"

Penelope looked impatiently from applying the last touches of her dark mascara to Joan.

"You were the one who said I should get out more."

"That was before we found out Edward Nigma was going to be there."

"And?" Penelope retorted, returning to the mirror. "Didn't you hear him during that self-aggrandizing interview of his? He's a changed man." She couldn't even try to keep the bitterness out of her tone.

"I treated him after he woke up from his coma, remember? I know he's reformed. That doesn't make him any less obnoxious. Or change the history between you two."

Penelope scoffed. "I'm not afraid of Edward Nigma. I never was. I stopped treating him at Arkham because I hit a wall with treating him." _And I cared more about perfecting the TITAN formula than anything else_. There was that self-loathing again. Penelope took a look at herself in the mirror. Satisfied with her appearance, she put away her mascara bottle and walked to her hallway closet to pull on her coat. "I used to think that he had the most potential out of all the super criminals to reform. I want to see if I was actually right about that." She turned to Joan then. "What was he like after he woke up?"

Joan leaned back against door frame and sighed. "Well first of all, he was in extensive recovery for quite a while. He had to relearn a lot of basic motor skills. I didn't actually meet with him until about a month or so after he woke up." Joan bit her lip. "When I finally did meet with him, he was angry. He was eager to get his treatment over with. But most of all, he was scared. He was always so proud of his intelligence and he woke up almost a complete stranger to himself. He had to relearn how to be his arrogant self again. Once he did, he pretended like he wasn't bothered by his circumstances, of course."

"He says that he doesn't have any memories of his time as the Riddler. Is that true?" Penelope inquired.

"Yes and no," Joan admitted. "When I began our sessions after his physical therapy, he could barely remember his name at first. He had to relearn his childhood, his past actions, the names of most of his associates and what his relationships with them were. He was able to recover quite a lot of information on his own, but there were plenty of gaps." Joan laughed a bit to herself. "I'm convinced though, that he remembers more than he lets on."

"And his compulsive behavior?"

"Not nearly what it was when he was in Arkham but it was still there. I haven't had a session with him in a long time though. Not since he was officially cleared. I have no idea what his mental state is now." She turned to give Penelope a grave look. "Are you absolutely sure you want to do this? I know I said that you should get out in the world more and I'm glad the idea of seeing him doesn't frighten you, but I don't think a confrontation would do either of you any good."

Penelope considered changing her mind, but shook it off. She hadn't let Nigma intimidate her when he'd been at his lowest point in Arkham and she'd be damned if she let him intimidate her now. "It's not like I'm going to go up and strike a conversation with the man. Besides, if he has as many gaps in his memory as you say he does, then he probably doesn't even remember me. I'll be alright." She took a deep breath and walked towards the door, Joan following close behind her.

 _It's just Edward Nigma. I'll be alright_.

Across town in a maintenance room at Lacey Towers, Edward was waiting for Sharp's security guard to finish installing the final security camera in the main ballroom. He was sitting in front of a main computer terminal mentally going over the list of employees that Sharp had provided him. Most of the people on the list would be at the benefit tonight, including the campaign staff and most of the current Arkham staff. Edward wasn't exactly looking forward to seeing the doctors again, but better here than at Arkham. He just needed to determine for sure who the 'murderer' was and then hopefully, he'd never have to see any of the incompetent fools again.

His musings were interrupted by the sound of Dennis entering the room. "Last camera's up Mr. Nigma. What now?"

Edward learned forward and typed a few commands on the keyboard. Within a few seconds, the monitor came alive with the camera feed for the front entrance to Lacey Towers, the feed from the two cameras in the ballroom and one from the underground parking lot.

"That's it?" Dennis asked.

"Now now," Edward chided him. "A little patience goes a long way." As Dennis watched, Edward typed one final set of commands and a window popped up on the lower left corner of the street.

"I've written a software that links up our camera feed here with the Arkham employee database as well as public arrest records," Edward explained. "Anyone who shows up on camera who isn't an invited guest or is some other kind of gate crasher, and your team will be aware of them instantly."

Dennis let out a low whistle. "You did all that in two days? Damn. You really are smart."

Actually, all Edward had done was update and modify a pre-existing program he'd written years ago, but the compliment was appreciated all the same. "That's why Sharp hired me Dennis. Do you know your schedule for tonight?"

Dennis nodded absently. "Yeah. I'm taking first shift. There'll be three other guys coming in. One will be in the ballroom with the Warden and the other two will be taking shifts here."

Edward got out of the chair then and grabbed his coat where he'd draped it. He put it on and straightened his tie. "Well then, I leave it in your capable hands. I've a public to impress."

Edward left Dennis in the maintenance room and crossed the hall towards the main ballroom of Lacey Towers, where the benefit proper would be taking place. Edward took a brief look at his watch. 6:45. The first guests would be arriving in about 15 minutes, but Sharp had said that some of his staff would arrive early. Edward walked through the open door and surveyed the ballroom for the first time. He'd been here before of course, at least he thought he had, but the usually understated elegance of the room was drowned out by the overbearing and, in Edward's opinion, rather creepy campaign regalia. Sharp and Kocen were standing in the center of the group, next to a small group of staffers. As he drew closer, Edward could pick up Sharp giving them their orders for the night.

"-Whatever your personal feelings towards the man are, I expect you to be professional! I don't want anything to disrupt the fundraiser tonight. Do I make myself clear?" Kocen saw Edward approach and tapped Sharp roughly on the shoulder. Sharp turned as if to snap at his campaign manager, then he saw Edward. "Ah, there's our man of the hour! Is everything ready for tonight?"

"Yes," Nigma answered. "I think we're well covered."

Sharp clapped his hands. "Excellent! Now Edward, I'm sure you'll need no introduction, but these are some of the medical staff from Arkham." He gestured to the group of people he'd been browbeating not five minutes earlier. "These are some of our doctors: Dr. Stephen Kellerman, Dr. Kevin Liew , and Dr. Sarah Cassidy. The rest of my staff had duties to attend to at the asylum, of course."

Edward took a moment now to look at the Arkham staff for the first time in nearly two years. Dr. Liew didn't meet his glance, while Dr. Cassidy politely nodded before looking down at her feet. Dr. Kellerman stared straight at him, almost daring him to make a move on them. Edward felt a rising sense of irritation at them. All those years they'd spent forcing him into group therapy, prescribing him mind-numbing medication that he never took and countless hours of saying 'Oh Edward, wouldn't you be so much happier if you weren't leaving silly riddles all over the place' and now that he actually had reformed? They acted even more afraid of him now than they ever had when he was at the asylum. Hadn't he done everything they'd wanted him to do? Just what did he have to prove to them? Edward took great care not to let any of this show however. Instead, he smugly tipped his hat to Kellerman and smirked. Kellerman's face tightened even more if that was possible and quickly turned away. _Good._

Oblivious to this display, Sharp walked off towards the front door to the ballroom, where some of the guests were starting to arrive. Seeing his chance, Edward walked up to Kocen.

"Have you received any more letters since I've seen you last?" he whispered, leaning in close to the campaign manager.

"No," Kocen whispered back. "Not at the campaign office and not at the asylum either. Warden Sharp thinks that your presence has been a deterrent."

Possible. Not likely, but possible. If that was the end of it, Edward would be just a bit disappointed. Patting Kocen on the shoulder, he went to join Sharp in greeting the guests. Time to meet the public.

Two hours later and Edward was beginning to regret ever coming to this event. While he'd amused himself regaling some of Sharp's donors with stories of his exploits both legal and illegal and had managed to drop off some business cards, Sharp had attached himself to him like an unwanted appendage, interjecting himself into the conversation whenever he could. He could barely get away from the Warden long enough to check in on Dennis and the security team, let alone fish for information regarding the doctors. Edward had managed to lose Sharp in the crowd and was now leaning against the wall next to the refreshments table, nursing a small flute of champagne. He had no illusions that he'd be able to be to himself long, but at least from this vantage point, he had a clear view of the room and the guests while collecting his thoughts. The doctors had remained relatively close to each other as the evening had progressed. Edward could see them now standing off to one corner, speaking amongst themselves. Edward still couldn't recall much about them beyond what a preliminary background check and a few scattered memories had told him, but he was convinced that none of the three present were the murderer that the letters had referenced. Kellerman and Liew didn't have the skill set necessary and Cassidy seemed a bit too...nice. There were other doctors that Edward knew of from the employee list Sharp had provided, but none of them seemed to be a good fit either. They were either too low level to be involved in something like the TITAN project, or had started at the asylum after the Joker's break-out. There were two names however that stood out as potential leads: Dr. Gretchen Whistler and Dr. Penelope Young. Both of them had been present at the asylum and had since retired. Edward couldn't recall anything regarding Whistler, but Dr. Young seemed a bit more familiar. Unfortunately, information about the both of them was a bit scarce. Edward took another sip out of his champagne glass and sighed. It seemed as if this question would require more in-depth research to resolve.

"Is this spot taken?"

Edward turned at the voice addressing him. When he saw who was talking to him, his mood shifted. "Well well, if it isn't Bruce Wayne. Never thought I'd see you at a political fundraiser."

The dapper billionaire leaned against the wall next to Edward. "I could say the same for you," he chuckled. "Especially for Quincy Sharp. What brings you out here?"

"Didn't you see our interview the other night?" Edward asked. "Sharp reached out to me to collaborate on security for the event. It's not my usual kind of job, but then I thought what better way to ;let bygones be bygones and help the man out?"

"And help yourself out to his checkbook."

Edward shrugged. "Well, what can I say? Not all of us can inherit our money."

Wayne nodded. "Fair enough. It's just that it's a bit of a surprise seeing you here. You haven't been very active for a while. At least, I haven't seen you on TV."

Edward shuffled a bit. "I've been...a bit preoccupied." Wayne looked at him with a narrowed gaze for a bit, then surveyed the room. Wayne had hired Edward for a number of jobs in the past and seemed to be one of the few people in Gotham who was genuinely interested in his reform, but something about being in close proximity with the man made Edward feel ill at ease. His first instinct in dealing with him was to dismiss him as another one of Gotham's elite dilettantes, but some deeper, more instinctual part of Edward was ever on the defensive regarding the handsome billionaire. He'd known something about Bruce Wayne once. Something important.

 _What time is it when an elephant sits on your fence?_

"What was that?" Wayne asked him, abruptly.

Edward looked up at him. Had he said that last bit out loud?

"Nothing," he said, quickly. "Just wondering about the time."

Wayne checked his watch. "8:50. Do you have somewhere you need to be?"

"I wish," Edward muttered. He turned to refill his champagne flute, fully aware that Wayne was staring at him and the watch he was wearing on his right wrist. Before Wayne could question him any further, Sharp had arrived on the scene. Edward had never been happier to see the pompous idiot.

"There you are Edward! I was wondering where you'd gotten to! Oh, Mr. Wayne! Pleasure to see you again!"

Wayne reached out to shake hands with the Warden. "Pleasure's all mine, Warden Sharp. Edward and I were just catching up. He's worked for me in the past."

Sharp nodded, not really that interested. "Oh yes, I think I remember hearing about that. How nice." Out of the corner of his eye, Edward caught Sharp's face lighting up as he saw something across the room. "Ah good! Dr. Young did come tonight!"

This got Edward's attention. _One of the Doctors who resigned? What was she doing here?_ "Sorry Warden, the name escapes me. Who was Dr. Young again?"

"She used to be one of our doctors at Arkham. Actually, she used to be one of your doctors. You really don't remember her?" Sharp pointed behind Wayne. "She's standing over there, with some of the other guests."

Edward looked over Wayne's shoulder to where Sharp was pointing and saw a dark haired young woman standing next to Joan Leland. At first he could only see the back of her head but then she turned and-oh. _Oh_. Edward felt like kicking himself. He'd had a doctor who looked like _that_? Why had he ever escaped Arkham? She hadn't noticed him yet, instead absently listening to what Leland was telling her so Edward took the opportunity to commit every detail of her appearance into his memory. He could vaguely hear Sharp continuing to ramble on about something or other, but for this one moment, she was the only other person in this room.

"Edward? Are you even listening to me Edward?"

"No," he answered. Dr. Leland excused herself and walked through the crowd to where the other Arkham doctors were gathered, leaving Dr. Young unaccompanied. _Perfect_.

"Would you hold this for me?" He asked Wayne, passing him his half-filled flute. He briefly removed his bowler hat to make sure his hair was as immaculate as possible, before he left Wayne and a now offended Sharp behind as he made his way to Dr. Young. In the back of his mind, he knew that she was one of his best suspects for being the murderer in the letters, but still. Why not have a little fun while he was here?

She still hadn't noticed him as he sauntered his way up to her, even as some of the other guests had and made way for him. When he was next to her, he cleared his throat. _I_ _hope_ _she doesn't remember me_ _too_ _badly. "_ Good evening, Dr. Young."

She turned sharply at the sound and nearly jumped back in shock. Just as quickly, she regained her composure, steeling her face into a cold expression. "Mr. Nigma."

"Oh please, no need to be so formal. Call me Edward," he purred. "It's not as if we don't know each other."

Dr. Young looked unimpressed. "You remember me, Mr. Nigma?"

 _She could give Jonathan lessons in coldness,_ Edward thought. "Not as well as I'd like," Edward confessed. "Sharp tells me you were my doctor."

Dr. Young tensed a bit. "What else did he tell you?"

 _Interesting_. "What else is there?"

"Nothing that concerns you," she answered a bit too quickly for Edward's liking. "Why would Sharp even bring you out here? What are you really up to?"

"It's just as the man says. Sharp needed help with security, so naturally, he reached out to me."

"And naturally, you did this out of the kindness of your heart." Dr. Young said acerbically.

Edward frowned. Alright, he may not be the most popular man with certain people, but what had he done to earn such disdain from her?

"I'm detecting a bit of hostility, Dr. Young. Would you care to tell me why?"

Dr. Young glared at him then. "You may not remember me, but I remember you. The very first session we had, you asked me the Riddle of the Sphinx."

"I can't imagine you had much trouble solving that-"

"Oh I didn't." She interrupted. "I said the answer was a man. You told me that the answer was actually a baby. It crawls on all four legs, but cut off its legs and it can wiggle on two limbs. Give it a crutch it can hobble around on three. I asked you how you could joke about something like that and you said easy, Dr: It's not my baby." She gave him one last withering look. "Our sessions didn't improve much from there. Goodnight, Mr. Nigma." And with that she turned her back on him and walked back into the crowd before he could even form a retort.

Edward watched her go with a mixture of irritation and curiosity. Clearly, he needed to do some more research on her. Also, just what kind of medication had the asylum had him on that day? The sounds of raised voices from the direction Dr. Young had walked off in caught his attention. It seemed that Dr. Young hadn't wasted any time alienating her old colleagues. Through the crowd, Edward could see Dr. Kellerman facing off against her. He moved a bit closer, catching snippets of the conversation.

"- You have no right to be here. Not after what you did."

"I never meant to-"

"Oh you never meant to? I'll be sure to tell that to all the staff that died because of your-"

"That's enough Stephen!" Edward heard Leland intervene. He peered over the top of someone's head to get a better look. Leland had placed herself in between Kellerman and Young. Far from the defiant woman Edward had seen and spoken with, Young had seemed to withdraw into herself. Kellerman looked like he wanted to say more, but instead hissed out. "You'd better not show up at the memorial." Kellerman stormed past her then, almost colliding into Edward on his way out of the ballroom. Edward watched him leave, beginning to understand what that exchange had been about. He turned back towards the doctors. Liew and Cassidy remained standoffish, but Leland had drawn in close to Young, no doubt asking if she was alright. Young nearly shoved her away, citing a simple need for fresh air. As she turned towards the doorway, she and Edward made eye contact. For a brief moment, Edward saw something other than cold detachment in those blue eyes. Something like guilt. The moment soon passed though and she quickly walked past him and left the ballroom.

Edward rubbed his chin in thought. He had found the murderer in the letters. He was certain of that. More research on Dr. Penelope Young would definitely be required. He sighed, ruefully. _Why do all the most attractive people in this town either hate my guts, engage in criminal activity or both_?

A hush fell over the ballroom as Sharp took center stage. _Finally_ , Edward thought. Sharp would address the guests, take credit for stopping the Joker's breakout, spend 20 minutes outlining his grand vision for turning Gotham into a police state and maybe, if Edward was very lucky, name drop him at the very end. Before Sharp could say anything however, there were two loud popping noises from the front of the building. The guests looked puzzled, while Edward cringed. He didn't need to be a genius to recognize gunfire when he heard it. A third shot rang out and then the guests began to panic. The two security guards assigned to the ballroom quickly ushered Sharp out, while Edward and a few other guests, Wayne included ran out towards the sounds.

Just outside the front door to Lacey Towers, a body was lying prone on the ground. Edward and Wayne approached the body, careful not to disturb any evidence. The person's head had been all but destroyed by a gunshot, but from the clothes, Edward recognized Dr. Kellerman. There were two additional gunshots to his chest and a note dropped next to his body. Thankful for his habit of wearing gloves, Edward picked up the note and read it.

 **I** **WARNED YOU. REVEAL THE MURDERER OR MORE WILL FOLLOW**.


	4. Escalation

Within 15 minutes, the GCPD had descended onto Lacey Towers. Detective Bullock wasted no time cordoning the body off and herding the guests into the ballroom so that the uniformed cops could begin to take statements. Bullock himself was devoting his attention to the, in his biased opinion, most likely suspect.

"Alright genius: where were you when Kellerman got shot?"

Edward rolled his eyes. "As I've said, repeatedly I might add, I was here in the ballroom when I heard the gunshots. I have at least a dozen witnesses to prove it."

"He's telling the truth," Wayne spoke up. "We were together when we found the body."

Bullock didn't look impressed. "Yeah? Weren't you in charge of security here tonight? How'd this happen under your watch?"

"First of all," Edward growled out. "I was collaborating with Sharp on security, not in charge of it. Second, the murder happened outside the building, not during the actual event. Try all you like Bullock, but you can't pin this on me."

"Just stay here where I can see you, freak. And don't even think about getting close to the body. This is our case now." Bullock stalked off, probably to question the security team. Edward leaned back against the wall, cooling his heels and thinking about the events of the night. He'd been right when he'd told Sharp that the letter writer was escalating, but he hadn't expected this. This wasn't simply a crime of opportunity committed by a distraught survivor. Whoever did this had brought the gun, waited for the opportunity to get Kellerman unawares, and made sure to kill him in a place where they could escape from easily. But if the goal all along was to kill the doctors, then why had the culprit waited until now? Why not kill them at the asylum? Were they trying to make a statement by killing them at the event? Probably. Edward looked up from his musings to look at where the other doctors were clustered. A uniformed officer was taking Leland's statement as Liew comforted Cassidy. Only Young was unoccupied, standing somewhat separate from the others. Edward's eyes narrowed in thought. She'd left the ballroom only seconds after Kellerman. What had she seen? Before he could even think of going over to ask, Bullock had returned with an apologetic looking Dennis.

"One of the security guys says that you had cameras up," he said. "Give us the footage."

"Of course," Edward answered. That wouldn't be a problem. His program had a protocol written into it to upload the footage to his server back on his office computer. "Will that be all, or would you like to browbeat me some more? I have places I need to be."

Bullock waved a hand at him dismissively. "Just stay out of our way, freak." He left in the direction of the maintenance room. Dennis hesitated briefly as if waiting for Edward to give him permission to follow the corpulent detective.

"Go on Dennis," Edward said. Dennis jogged off to join Bullock. Now that Bullock was out of the way, Edward turned his attention toward the doctors. Liew and Cassidy were having their statements taken, but Leland and Young were gone. Edward stifled a curse. No matter. He'd get to the bottom of the Young matter. Soon. In the meantime, he had a client to consult with.

"Where are you going?"

Edward turned. Wayne was giving him an inquisitive look. The police had finished questioning him. What was he still doing here?

"Where does it look like?" Edward said. "I've got a murder to solve."

"Didn't Bullock just tell you to stay out of the way?"

"And when have I ever done what the GCPD said?" Edward tipped his hat to Wayne. "Goodnight Mr. Wayne. Stay out of trouble now." He left the room in search of Sharp.

Edward found his client near the front of the building, surrounded by the remaining security team, Kocen and, much to Edward's surprise, Vicki Vale and her news crew. Well, she certainly hadn't wasted any time. Edward had to admire that. Better her than that self-important jackass Ryder at any rate.

"Warden Sharp," she asked, pointing the microphone into his face. "Do you have any comment on the murder of Dr. Kellerman?"

"Of course we're absolutely devastated," Sharp answered in a tone that sounded anything but. "Dr. Kellerman was a valued member of the Arkham staff and will be greatly missed. I can assure you, my campaign will be cooperating with the GCPD to resolve this horrible tragedy."

"Do you think this will have an impact on your campaign going forward?"

"Now that's a bit premature," Sharp said. "My campaign is run on the promise of restoring safety to Gotham. Dr. Kellerman's unfortunate death proves how woefully inadequate the security of our city is. And we will not allow this senseless violence to intimidate us and silence our message."

Kellerman hasn't been dead for an hour and his death is being politicized. I'm no stranger to self-promotion, but this is grotesque even by my standards. Judging by her pursed lips and narrowed eyebrows, Vale agreed with him. Even Kocen had the decency to look slightly embarrassed.

"I'm sure that'll be a comfort to Dr. Kellerman's family," she drawled. "What about your 'partnership' with Edward Nigma?"

Seeing an opening, Edward stepped forward before Sharp or any of his staff could speak. "I can answer any questions on that end, Ms. Vale."

Vale quickly turned her attention to the former rogue, much to Sharp's annoyance. "Mr. Nigma," she started. "Do you have any comment on the murder of Dr. Kellerman?"

"My thoughts are along the same lines as Warden Sharp. This was a senseless tragedy. I personally don't have any recollections of Dr. Kellerman myself, but I'm sure he'll be missed."

"Do you have any insight as to why he was killed? Was this a random attack?"

"Now now, Ms. Vale. It would be a tad irresponsible of me to speculate on this without any kind of evidence."

"But you do intend to investigate this, don't you Mr. Nigma?" This wasn't a question.

Edward smiled. "But of course, Ms. Vale. Warden Sharp hired me to help improve security for his campaign and that's just what I intend to do." He turned to look at Sharp. "With the Warden's approval, of course."

Sharp looked a bit flustered but nodded in acquiescence. "Yes, of course, Mr. Nigma. Do what needs to be done."

Vale looked skeptical. "Not to imply anything Mr. Nigma, but is that really appropriate? Considering your past history with the staff at Arkham Asylum and the upcoming memorial, couldn't your presence do more harm than good?"

Oh, this song and dance again. "On the contrary Ms. Vale, who better to solve the murder of an asylum staffer than a former patient? It allows me a certain insight into particulars of the case. As for my past history, I've made it quite clear that I hold no ill will towards any of the staff at Arkham for, shall we say, our complicated relationship. They were simply doing their jobs. And with that," he finished with a tip of his hat and a small bow, "I leave you for now. I have a murder to solve."

He left her then before she could ask another question and made his way to the front doors. As he walked past Sharp, the latter reached out to him.

"Nigma," he hissed. "Where are you going?"

"Back to my office," Edward answered, turning slightly to make sure Vale wasn't eavesdropping. Thankfully, she had caught sight of Wayne and turned all of her attention to him. "I have to review the footage I took here tonight. I might have gotten part of the murder on camera, or at the very least, a plausible suspect."

"But what about the security for the campaign? We need to talk about what our plans are for the memorial!"

"I've already given an outline to Dennis. Once he's done being browbeat by Bullock I'm sure he'll share it with you. Now if you'll excuse me-"

As Edward turned to leave again, Sharp roughly grabbed a hold of his arm and spun him back around to face him. "Dammit, Nigma! I didn't hire you so you could go chasing after a murderer! I hired you to keep my campaign safe!"

Edward jerked his arm away from Sharp. "Don't touch me," he hissed. "You might be paying my salary, but don't ever presume that means you control me Sharp. I'm fulfilling my end of the bargain with security, but you also hired me to find out who was writing the letters. I warned you they were escalating and here we are. So unless you want to politicize more dead staff members, stay out of my way and hire a bodyguard." Edward stormed out of the building, leaving behind an enraged Sharp. He'd had enough indulging the man's ego. Now he had serious work to do.

Two hours later, Edward was back in his office, sipping a lukewarm cup of coffee and looking over the uploaded security footage on his laptop. He started on the footage obtained from the camera placed at the front entrance of Lacey Towers. He picked that location specifically to keep an eye on the traffic flowing in and out of the ballroom, but it didn't offer a view of the outside of the front doors. Edward frowned. In retrospect, he should have fought harder with Lacey Towers building management to get a camera placed on the outside of the building, but hindsight was 20/20.

While watching the footage, Edward took care to make mental notes about the movements of key people at the gathering. So far, he'd seen himself walking from the hall that led to the maintenance room into the ballroom and various guests arriving. About an hour in, he noticed Dennis making his way down the hall, talking on his cell phone. Dennis's movements during the evening weren't entirely accounted for, yet, but Edward remembered seeing him entering the ballroom not too long before the first shot rang out. That cleared him of murder, at least. After that, the traffic consisted mainly of guests arriving and Lacey Towers staff. Edward stifled a yawn. There were many differences between his past work as a criminal and his semi-legitimate work nowadays, but one thing they had in common was just how much dull minutiae was involved.

Finally, Dr. Kellerman made his appearance in the footage. Edward leaned forward in his chair. Kellerman stormed out of the ballroom, no doubt still irritated by his encounter with Young. Edward could see Kellerman reaching into his jacket pocket, then pulling out a carton of cigarettes. Once he'd pulled out a cigarette, he left through the front doors, out of sight. Poor bastard. Moments after Kellerman had left, Young appeared on camera. Like her unfortunate former colleague, she headed towards the front doors, but when she was close enough to push her way out, she hesitated. She then turned back towards the ballroom, before taking a right turn down the hall that led to the parking garage elevator. Edward tapped his fingers. She'd probably seen Kellerman through the glass doors and decided to avoid further confrontation. Still, he made a mental note to question her further about this. Among other things.

At last, he was in the final minutes leading up to the murder. As he predicted, the murder itself wasn't caught on camera, although Edward could see glass flying from where the bullets had impacted the door. He saw himself, Wayne and a few other guests leave to investigate, and the rest was pandemonium until the GCPD showed up.

Edward leaned back in his chair and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Other than Young, no one had left the ballroom after Kellerman. No one had left from the direction of the direction of the parking garage either. That meant the killer was already outside, lying in wait. Furthermore, the killer knew to be out there to avoid detection from the cameras. This was matching up with Edward's theory about an insider being the culprit, but this didn't bode well for the other doctors.

Edward was so deep in thought that he didn't hear the noise of his window being opened. He did feel the early morning chill however and turned around.

"Oh wonderful," he groaned. "I was wondering if you'd show up."

Batman loomed over him, as if he was a supernatural creature from a nightmare instead of a man in a batsuit. "We need to talk Nigma."

"Sorry, but my consulting hours are from 9am to 6pm, Monday through Friday. You can come back Monday morning, through the front door."

"I'm not here to play games, Nigma. I heard about the note found on the body. And I know there's more to Sharp hiring you than what the two of you said on the news. What's going on?"

Nigma gave him a challenging look. "Fine," he admitted. "Sharp hired me because he was getting threatening letters at his campaign office and at the asylum. He personally requested my assistance actually."

"Did you know that this was going to happen?"

"If I did, don't you think I would have stopped it? A dead Arkham doctor doesn't exactly do me any favors, now does it?"

Batman ignored Edward's jibe, turning his attention to the filing cabinet propped up against the wall. "Do you have the letters?"

Edward pulled out his desk drawer, pulling out the letters in question. "Here," he said. "I already had them checked for prints. No luck there."

Batman leaned over the desk, reading the contents. "Hiding a murderer?"

"It's a reference to the breakout a year ago," Edward explained. "More specifically, to Dr. Young and her monsters."

"Did Sharp tell you about that?"

"Give me some credit Dark Knight," Edward sassed. "Sharp gave me the bare details, but I was able to work out Young's involvement on my own. That's what geniuses like myself do."

"So whoever did this knows that a doctor was involved in the Joker's riot, but doesn't know which one. They're also able to deliver the letters without being detected. Do you have any suspects, genius?"

Edward rolled his eyes. "I don't have any names yet. But any child could see that it's someone on the inside. My guess is a low-level security guard. I'm going through the list of names Sharp gave me after I finish reviewing the footage."

Batman said nothing. In Edward's experience, that usually meant that the vigilante agreed with him, but couldn't bring himself to admit it. Batman opened a compartment on his utility belt and placed the letters inside.

"I'm taking this for further analysis. I'm also going to speak to the doctors."

Edward raised an eyebrow. "I don't recall asking for your help on this."

"I'm not doing this to help you Nigma. All of the doctors who work at Arkham are potential targets now."

Edward raised a hand to him dismissively. "I am fully aware of that. In any case, don't let me keep you from your heroic duties. Just don't get in my way."

Usually, Batman would leave as silently as he came in, but instead, he continued to look at Edward. Edward pretended he wasn't tensing just a bit.

"You're usually more open to collaborating on a case. Why are you being so defensive?"

"I am not being defensive. I'm tired and I have a murder to solve." Batman just continued to look. Why couldn't he just leave already?

"I heard about what happened with Dr. Aesop." He said. Was that just a hint of sympathy in his tone? Edward must have been more tired than he thought. "If you need to talk-"

"I don't," Edward cut him off. "If I want therapy, which I don't, I'll talk to the twits at Arkham myself. Is there anything else?"

Batman's eyes narrowed a bit, but he dropped the topic, mercifully. "Just one more question: why didn't Sharp go to the GCPD when these letters started arriving?"

This question through Edward for a bit of a loop. "Sharp told me that his campaign manager did and that they told him it was a prank."

"Gordon said that he didn't know anything about this before tonight. Neither did Bullock or any of the uniforms on the scene."

Edward pursed his lips together in thought. "Sharp lied to me then. Why?"

"I don't know," Batman answered. "I'll look into it. In the meantime, be careful around Sharp. I don't think his interest in your reform is as benign as he claims." Batman left then, disappearing into the dark Gotham night.

Edward was alone then, mind reeling from this new information. What else was Sharp hiding from him? Just what in the Hell was going on at the asylum? Edward looked down at his case notes. Batman may be focusing on the medical staff now, but there was one doctor Edward needed to check in on himself. Perhaps Dr. Young may be a bit more honest than her former employer.

Sharp paced around his office like a caged tiger. "It was absolutely unacceptable Hugo," he sputtered. "He left me to go play detective! I lend him credibility and this is how he repays me? I ought to fire him for this."

"Now now," Dr. Strange soothed. "We knew something like this may happen. Who knows? Mr. Nigma may bite off a bit more than he can chew and the problem may solve itself. In the meantime, let the man have his fun."


	5. Not a Matter of IF, but WHEN

After being questioned by the police, Joan had driven Penelope back to her apartment and told her to get some rest. Penelope had laid in her bed for over an hour before realizing that rest wouldn't be possible. Her composure, once renowned by Arkham staff and patients alike for being unshakeable, had been rattled by her encounters with Nigma and with Kellerman. It had been shattered completely when Kellerman had been killed. Even now, as she drove towards her office, her hands were shaking. While she'd never considered Kellerman a friend, his death was as senseless as it was unexpected. Why was he killed? Was Nigma's presence at the event that evening connected somehow? Did Sharp hire him because he feared something like this would happen? Penelope considered these questions and sighed. No, sleep tonight would not be possible.

Once she reached her office, she parked her car on the street and walked into the building. Joan would frown on this, but Penelope often came here at night, when dreams of the past got to be too much. She always felt better when she had work to occupy her mind. As she walked down the darkened hallway, she noticed a thin crack of light under her door. Penelope stopped dead in her tracks. She knew that she hadn't left her light on the last time she'd been here and it was far too late for it to be the cleaning staff. Someone was in her office.

A cold chill went down Penelope's spine as her mind raced with the possibilities of who could be in her office. She hadn't seen any other cars parked on the street as she'd pulled in. She also couldn't hear noise coming from her office. Perhaps someone had been there and left? Without turning off her light? She was never that lucky. Penelope reached into her purse, only to realize that she had left her cell phone on her bedroom dresser. But, she did have her taser. Steeling herself, Penelope pushed open her door.

She was greeted by the sight of Edward Nigma sitting on her desk with his nose in one of her books. A closer look told her that it was her journal from Arkham Asylum. He hadn't noticed her opening the door or he had and was ignoring her. Penelope stood in her doorway, too shocked to even pull out her taser. Finally, he looked up at her and had the audacity to grin. "Good morning Dr. Young!" he chirped, as if he was an expected guest.

This glib response, on top of his unwelcome presence, tipped her from shock to anger. She slammed the door behind her, causing the frame to shake slightly. "What in the Hell are you doing here!?" she demanded.

"Just catching up on my reading," he replied turning his attention back to the page he was on. "This is illuminating. 'I cannot help but admire the complexity, and yet apparent simplicity of the many conundrums and riddles Nashton regularly presents me within his treatment sessions. Often, I find myself working through them in my, infrequent, free time.'" Nigma looked up at her with a smirk that he might have thought was charming, but to Penelope looked predatory. "So," he asked. "Which one was your favorite?"

Of course, he'd read the passages about himself. Not for the first time that evening, Penelope was taken aback by the sheer ego the man displayed. "Why don't you keep reading?"

Nigma chuckled a bit and turned the page. "'Patient Interview 44, transcript. This is yet another interview with Edward Nigma. I have yet to make up my mind whether he is a genius or just deluded.'" Nigma frowned. "Hurtful!" He continued on, slightly more subdued. "'Whichever one he is, just being in his company is both irritating and exhausting.' Now that's just rude! If you were carrying this much hostility in our sessions, well, it's no wonder why you never made any progress."

Penelope rolled her eyes. "You're right. I should have been soft and sweet to the man who regularly called the rest of the staff morons."

"It couldn't have hurt," Nigma replied as he got to his feet. Penelope fought back a quick wave of panic. Nigma wasn't a large man, but he had a good six inches on her. And she was becoming more and more aware of the fact that she was alone with a man who used to set up death traps for Batman himself. No matter how many times Edward Nigma said he was reformed, he was dangerous. She'd be a fool to forget that.

"Not that this hasn't been entertaining," Nigma said, in that cool, condescending way of his, "But I was here for a purpose. I need to talk to you about what happened at the fundraiser tonight."

Penelope relaxed a bit when he didn't approach her. "You mean Dr. Kellerman's murder? Are you investigating that now too? Won't that get in the way of you providing security for Sharp?"

"I'm very good at multitasking," Nigma chuckled. "And at any rate, catching a murderer will do wonders for Sharp's campaign. And my reputation."

"I'm sure," Penelope said, dryly. "So what part of breaking into my office and looking through my files helps you find the murderer?"

"It got me to have this lovely conversation with you, didn't it? But we're getting a bit off track here." Nigma' face took on a serious expression. "You left the ballroom not long after Kellerman did. Where did you go?"

Penelope chewed her lip a bit before deciding to go along with this. If it got him out of her office faster..."I needed fresh air after Kellerman and I had our...encounter. I went out to the parking garage to have some time for myself. I didn't find out about the murder until Joan-Dr. Leland came to get me."

"Did you see anyone?"

Penelope creased her brow in thought. "There was no one else in the parking garage. I did run into one of the security guards in the hall. He was on his cell phone. I think he was arguing with the person on the other line. He seemed agitated."

"That's it? You didn't see or hear anything else?"

Penelope shook her head. "No." She looked at Nigma and noticed he had an unreadable look on his face. "What?" She asked. "Do you think I'm a suspect?"

"No," Nigma answered. "I know you didn't kill Kellerman. But you are very much involved in this."

Penelope felt a sense of dread pervade her. "What do you mean?"

"Before the fundraiser, Sharp had been receiving threatening letters."

That would explain why Sharp hired him. "What does that have to do with-"

"I was getting to that," Nigma interrupted her. "These letters demanded that Sharp reveal the identity of a 'murderer' the letter writer thought he was protecting. Any ideas who that murderer might be, Dr. Young?"

That feeling of dread was becoming stronger now. Penelope could feel the chill spread and she unconsciously wrapped her arms around herself. "The Joker's outbreak, the TITAN," she murmured, almost becoming unaware of Nigma's presence.

"That's what I suspect," Nigma said. Penelope cringed a bit at that. So he did remember the TITAN project. "But whoever wrote the letters only knows the what, not who. Which means-"

"Everyone of the doctors at the asylum is a target. Because of me." Penelope finished. She felt tears pricking at her eyes. Kellerman was dead because of her. Every one of her old colleagues was in danger because of her. How many more lives would be ruined because of her and that Godforsaken experiment?

"Dr. Young?"

Penelope looked back up. Nigma was staring at her with an expectant look on his face. Penelope took a breath and wiped her eyes. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her fall apart. "What do you want from me?"

"I'm confident that an old employee of Arkham's the one behind the letters and the murder. Most likely a security guard. I need to know how many of the old guard at Arkham knew about your little science experiment."

Penelope frowned a bit. "The only people who knew about it were me, Sharp, and the Board at Arkham. Even then, I was the only one who knew most of the details."

"Other than the Joker, at least."

Penelope glared at Nigma. "That wasn't intentional on my part."

Nigma shrugged dismissively. "You weren't the first person to be taken in by the Joker. You won't be the last. What about Aaron Cash?"

Penelope tensed. "What about him?"

"Did he know?"

"Not before the riot. He-" Penelope paused then fully realized the implication. "Aaron wouldn't do this!"

"He did get fired by Sharp afterward," Nygma pointed out. "That's a strong motive for murder."

"But you just said that the murderer killed Kellerman because they didn't know he wasn't the the one responsible for the TITAN," Penelope argued. "Aaron knows that I created it. And even if he didn't know, there's no way he'd murder any of the doctors. He's the reason I'm still alive."

Nigma frowned a bit at that. "I suppose you're right," he conceded. "He'd target Sharp before any of you. But whoever did this has some knowledge of how to avoid security. Even if Cash himself isn't behind this, he likely knows who is."

"Do you have any actual idea what you're doing Nigma? Or are you just going to twist anything I say to fit your narrative."

Nigma narrowed his eyes at her. "I don't have a narrative, Dr. Young. Whatever your history with him is, Cash is a logical suspect given the evidence I have. I'm not looking to satisfy any grudges I might have. I'm-"

"I know," Penelope interrupted. "You're a 'new man.' I've told you anything I can think of. You can leave now." Nigma made no move to leave. Instead, he looked at her with something between annoyance and anger.

"Why is that so hard for you to believe?" He finally asked her. "Why is that so hard for all of you to believe? The police, the media, everyone seems to think that one of these days I'm just going to wake up and start leaving riddles for Batman to solve again! What is it going to take for all of you to stop treating me like I'm still in Arkham?"

He was getting more agitated, but Penelope stood her ground. Perhaps it was exhaustion from the evening's events or just the sheer annoyance of his presence, but she was done with Nigma. "What did you expect?" She coldly asked him. "That just because you helped solve a few murders that this city would forget the past ten years of your life?"

Nigma huffed. "Of course not," he answered. "But is it too much to ask if once, just once, I could get the benefit of the doubt?"

"Why? It's not like anything's changed."

Nigma looked offended at that. "What are you talking about? I-"

"Oh, the dynamic's changed, I'll grant you that. But deep down, you're still the same narcissist I treated at Arkham two years ago." Nigma looked like he wanted to interject, but Penelope cut him off before he could. "Tell me," she asked. "When you woke up from your coma and were medically cleared, why did you become a private investigator?"

Nigma looked blankly at her for a moment. "Why...well, to borrow a quote from Doyle, my mind rebels at stagnation. I needed something to do to put my intellect to good use. It's not as if there were many job openings available to a former super villain."

"I'm sure, but don't you think it's a little telling that you picked a profession that would keep you in direct competition with Batman?"

"This may come as a surprise to you Dr. Young, but my life doesn't revolve around Batman."

"No?" Penelope asked. She knew she was treading on thin ice with Nigma, but she was past the point of caring. "So why call the media in every time you take a case? I've seen your commercials. Even with this case, you couldn't resist making it about yourself and how you were the bigger person for helping Sharp. Don't insult me by pretending that you care about me or about what happens to the people at the asylum. All you care about, all you've ever cared about, is beating Batman and being the smartest person in Gotham and making sure the whole world knows it. And if that's the case, then it's not a matter of if you'll relapse. It's a matter of when." Penelope's voice had gradually risen in volume until she was nearly shouting at the former rogue. She took a deep breath to regain composure before she continued. "So forgive me, Mr. Nigma, if I can't bring myself to give you the benefit of the doubt."

Nigma's facial expression had changed from surprise at her demeanor to barely restrained anger. His grip on his cane had tightened to the point where it looked like it was ready to snap. For a moment, Penelope wondered if she had gone too far. Then Nigma did something unexpected. He laughed.

"My, my Dr. Young!" He said as he finished. "Aren't we bitter? I realize that you must be a bit overwhelmed at what I've told you, but that's no reason to take it out on me. It's true, I'm not exactly in this business out of the goodness of my heart, but all you doctors ever wanted from me was to leave my life of crime. No one ever said I had to be a good person." He began to slowly walk towards her. Penelope back up until she could feel the doorknob dig into her lower back. She calculated how long it would take her to pull out her taser versus how long it would take Nigma to get within grabbing distance of her, all the while fighting off a panic attack. Nigma finally paused about a foot in front of her.

"Besides," he said in a low tone. "Between you and me Dr. Young, which one of us is really a good person? The former supervillain or the woman who violated her Hippocratic Oath and made monsters? If I'm irredeemable, what does that say about you?"

That cut Penelope to the quick. In one swift movement, she sharply shoved Nigma away from her. Before he could recover from the shock, she pulled her taser out of her purse and aimed it at him.

"Get out!" She cried out. Her hands were shaking, her breath coming out in deep gasps, but she never took her eyes off him.

Nigma stared at her, eyes wide in shock and both his hands raised. "Alright, alright. No need for violence. I'll leave." He slowly backed away from her, giving her room to maneuver around him. She slowly crept towards her desk, keeping her fingers at the ready. Nigma never took his eyes off of her, shock being replaced by an odd mix of concern and...admiration? Once assured he was in the clear, Nigma turned to open the door and leave her office. Before he left, he turned to look at her one last time.

"I'd leave town if I were you," he warned. "If this murderer's not caught, it's only a matter of time until they work their way to you."

Penelope didn't lower her taser. "I can take care of myself. Leave. Now."

Nigma let out a short chuckle. "I almost believe it. Well, good night Dr. Young. It's been a pleasure." He sarcastically tipped his hat to her before shutting the office door behind him. Penelope didn't lower her guard until she heard his footsteps gradually recede into silence. She locked her door behind her, then nearly collapsed into her desk chair, overwhelmed at what had just occurred.

A few minutes passed before Penelope had calmed down enough to realize that Nigma had taken her Arkham journal with him when he left, along with all the notes it contained. Tired, angry and shattered by the truth of what Nigma told her, Penelope took her face into her hands and wept.

 **AN: Sorry for the delay folks. Holidays will do that to you. I also wanted to thank everyone who's left a review and read so far. You guys keep me going. Thanks and I hope you continue to enjoy!**

 **Next Time: Edward questions another person from his past at the Asylum, but his meeting with Dr. Young starts to awaken long suppressed feelings about his past...**


	6. Perchance to Dream

It was well after 4:00 am by the time Edward made it back to his office. He'd thought briefly about going home to rest up for a bit, but his unexpected rendezvous with Dr. Young had made him too agitated to sleep. He sighed as he hung up his cane and coat on the rack in his office.

"Well," he murmured. "That could have gone better." That was an understatement. He hadn't even been able to broach the subject of Sharp before she'd decided to turn their meeting into one of those therapy sessions from Hell he recalled from Arkham. Other than her obvious need to be treated for post traumatic stress disorder, the only new detail he'd managed to uncover from their little chat was the fact that Aaron Cash could no longer be considered a credible suspect. Not that he'd been that high on the list of suspects to begin with.

Edward sat at his desk, put the journal he'd taken from Dr. Young' office in his top drawer and booted up his computer. Now that Cash was all but eliminated, that left him with nearly a hundred members of Arkham security to comb through. He'd begun to run down the list of employees he'd obtained from Sharp earlier that week and had ruled out any connections between them and anyone currently employed on Sharp's campaign staff. That would've been too easy, he thought. Luckily, he'd programmed his software to run the names of the employees against criminal records from the GCPD and obituary notices.

Edward sighed. Even with this short cut, it would take a while to track anyone who was still alive, let alone anyone who could be a potential subject. Slowly, the program began to return names. **Alvarez, Maria. Deceased. Boxer, Patrick. Deceased. Butts, Henry, Deceased. Kirkpatrick, Adam. Deceased**...Ten more names followed. All but one were deceased.

Edward shook his head. "You really outdid yourself Joker," Edward would be the first to admit that empathy was never a strong suit of his and he remembered threatening a guard or two in his criminal career, but he'd never enjoyed the act of violence. It had always been a means to an end, not something to be indulged in for its own sake. What Joker did at the asylum...well, even someone as self-centered as Edward freely admitted to being was taken aback.

 _Don't insult me by pretending that you care about me, or what happens to the people at the asylum._

Edward frowned and began to tap his finger while waiting for the program to finish. Fine. So maybe he didn't care about anyone at the asylum on a personal level. Why did that matter? Would mourning the loss of a non-entity like Kellerman help him find his murderer faster? Would showing up in a black suit and bowing his head at the memorial on Monday for people who'd never seen him as anything more than a burden, a freak, as Bullock was so fond of calling him, make them any less dead? Did any of them mourn Jonathan? Edward was honest when he said that he didn't hold anything against the doctors at Arkham, but he didn't owe them a damn thing.

No, he freely admitted the real reason he was here was for the challenge. Even if the old compulsion to leave riddles was gone, the drive he had to solve them, to learn and know everything there was in this city was as alive as before. It made perfect sense for him to leverage that into a profitable and high profile career. It kept him occupied, didn't it? It kept him away from crime, even if the work wasn't nearly as fulfilling as before. And working with Sharp and solving this case was a win win situation for everyone involved, even if people like Bullock, Wayne, Ryder and that insufferable woman couldn't see it.

 _All you care about, all you've ever cared about, is being the smartest man in Gotham and making sure the whole world knows it._

Edward tapped his finger against the desk a little more insistently. And? He'd never denied that. Not as the Riddler and not now. He'd never claimed that he had Gotham's best interests in mind when he'd committed his crimes.

"Riddle me this Dr," he murmured. "When your actions lead to the deaths of almost a hundred people, does it really matter why you did it?" Edward shook his head. Why was he letting the rain vings of one disgraced Arkham professional get to him? He must be more tired then he thought.

Putting her words out of his mind, he turned his attention back to his computer. It had gone through fifty more names and only produced two people who were still alive.

Edward set his glasses down onto the desk, leaned back in his chair and yawned. At this rate, he wouldn't be getting any substantial work done until daybreak. It wouldn't hurt to take a short break. Just to clear his head and get his thoughts under control. Edward felt his eyes close and he drifted off into sleep.

 _He was in the asylum again. He couldn't see any of the guards, orderlies or doctors, but he knew the sterile, oppressive atmosphere from anywhere. He wasn't in his jumpsuit, but in his traditional green get-up. Was he escaping? Returning? He wasn't sure. He'd been wandering the intensive treatment center for what seemed like forever. He couldn't see anyone. Where were the other patients? A voice from behind him interrupted his thoughts._

 _"What time is it when an elephant sits on your fence?"_

 _He turned and saw the source of the voice. A dark, looming shadow was moving towards him. He thought he could make out a cape and cowl and the hair on the back of his head stood up._

 _"I know you. Maybe better than you know yourself."_

 _Any other time, he'd be irritated at the presumption, but instead, his heart started pounding. Edward slowly backed away, frantically looking for an exit, but there was nothing but the two of them in the empty hall. To his horror, Edward found himself cornered at a dead end with the shadow continuing to walk towards him._

 _"Riddles are your addiction. Your compulsion."_

 _"No," Edward murmured desperately as the shadow closed the distance. "No, they're gone, the compulosion's gone, I'm a changed man, please, leave me alone,"_

 _"And the riddle that everyone knows is worthless." The shadowed figure stopped before him. Edward recognized him instantly as Batman._

 _"Did you hear me? Worthless! Just like you, Eddie." The shadow repeated. His voice had changed from Batman's familiar gruff tone to something even more terrifying to Edward._

 _"No," Edward barely managed to say. "Please, not you,"_

 _'Batman' said nothing else. Instead, he took off his cowl in one fluid motion. Edward collapsed to his knees with a strangled cry. He knew this man. Even in the earliest days of his recovery, when he could barely recall his own name, he remembered the face of his father._

 _The specter of William Nashton glared down at him. "You little moron. Who're you trying to fool? You ain't smart. You're a crook. That's all you're ever going to be!"_

 _Edward shut his eyes and held his hands over her ears, trying to gain to drown him out._

 _"No," he whispered. He hated how small his voice sounded. His father had been dead for fifteen years, but just his appearance stripped away any trace of the persona Edward had so carefully constructed since he'd left home. "I am smart. I'm a genius. I'm not that man anymore."_

 _"Don't lie to me boy," his father growled._

 _"I'm not lying," Edward said._

 _"Look at me when I'm talking to you, you worthless little shit!"_

 _Edward got to his feet then, and gave his father his best glare. "I'm not lying! And I'm not worthless! You're the moron! It was always you! I'm-"_

 _His father brought his fist back and punched him in the face. Edward sprawled backwards, hitting the wall. Before he could even pull his arms up to defend himself, his father began to rain blow after blow on him._

 _"Liar!" He yelled at him, in Batman's voice again. He aimed lower, driving his fist into Edward's stomach. "Freak!" He yelled, in Bullock's voice. "I ought to put you back in a cell, you animal," he growled, in a voice thatsounded like Aaron Cash. "You don't belong out there."_

 _Finally, the attack ceased. Edward slumped to the floor, curling into a ball and desperately holding back tears. "No more," he cried out. "Please, Dad, no more."_

 _For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then, a thin, southern toned voice reached his ears._

 _"Edward?"_

 _Edward cautiously looked up. "J-Jonathan?"_

 _Instead, there with his father stood Selina, a mace in her right hand. She smiled cruelly at him. "Don't be afraid," she purred. She then brought the mace down on Edward's head, hard. His world turned red, then black, then bright-_

Edward bolted out of his chair with a gasp. He quickly grabbed the back of his head, to make sure that his skull was still intact. As he held on, he became aware that his breath was coming in deep, shuddering gasps. "Calm down," he told himself. "It was just a dream. Your father's dead. Jonathan's...not here. Focus, Edward." He took deep breaths and mentally recited every dime store riddle he'd ever learned to focus his thoughts. Finally, his heart beat slowed to normal.

Still on edge, Edward pulled out the top drawers of his desk and rummaged through them.

"Come on," he said, pulling out paper and stationary. "Where are you?" After throwing an old notebook across the room, he found the small prescription bottle he was looking for. Edward unscrewed the lid, took two pills and swallowed them. He never liked taking medication. It dulled his senses, he thought, and he couldn't afford to operate at less than a hundred percent, but the anti-anxiety medication Leland had put him on when he'd been mentally cleared was the only thing that could keep him grounded after one of these episodes. That annoyed him six months ago. Now it frightened him.

Edward ruefully examined the bottle. He only had four pills left. He'd need to get his prescription refilled, but seeing as how that would involve actually talking with Leland, it could wait. Preferably until after this case was solved. Once he felt calm enough to proceed, Edward looked at the clock. 10:45 am. Well, he'd gotten about six hours. That was better than usual.

While he'd been fighting with the deeper recesses of his mind, his computers software had completed running through the names of the old security guards at Arkham. Out of the one hundred and five people who had been employed at the time of the Joker's break out, only ten were still alive. Of those ten, four of them had left Gotham altogether, two were still employed at Arkham, including Lyle Bolton of all people, and one was a patient at Arkham themselves now. Lovely.

That left three potential suspects for Edward to track down. Two people who were now employed by Wayne Enterprises, and one who especially caught Edward's interest. Joe Bryant, a former security guard who had left voluntarily, and who now ran a victim's advocacy group. It was his organization in fact that was sponsoring the memorial on Monday. Bryant had no criminal record, but he'd been vocal about his disdain for Sharp since he'd left the asylum, penning numerous letters to the editor of the Gotham Gazette.

Edward smirked a bit. Low level security guard with a definite grudge? Definitely someone worth his attention. Edward got up out of his chair. Firstly, he'd go back to his apartment. He needed to shower and change his clothes. Then, he'd track down this Joe Bryant. With any luck, he'd have this case cracked and his face in the paper by that evening.

As he began to leave, Edward realized that in his earlier search for his medication, he'd placed the journal he'd 'borrowed' from Dr. Young on top of his desk. He hesistated. He'd only barely begun reading into his case history when she'd interrupted him earlier that morning. He knew there was more. Maybe there was something in that journal that could end his constant temptation to backslide. Maybe he could find an answer to why he couldn't sleep at night without being haunted by the ghosts of a past he could only barely remember. Maybe-

Edward shook his head. "The murderer, Edward, remember?" He reproached himself. "Catch him first. This little stroll down memory lane can wait." And with that, he walked out of his office and into the bright Gotham morning.


	7. Questions and Answers

Compared to Sharp's large and frankly, ostentatious campaign office, the Arkham Survivor's Support Group was nothing to write home about. It wasn't even its own building, but rather a small office space rented out of a larger older building in Downtown Gotham, much like Edward's own office. Edward had driven past the building twice before finally spotting the sign poking out of a small window. Edward parked his car down the street and walked up the steps toward the building. When he walked in, he noticed that the elevator in the main entryway had an out of order sign draped across the door. At least the support group's office was on the ground floor. And open on the weekend.

When he entered the support group office, the only person he saw was a middle aged woman sitting at the front desk, mindlessly flipping through a magazine. Edward waited for her to acknowledge him, but she didn't look up. He impatiently cleared his throat.

"May I help you?" the woman asked, not looking up from her magazine.

Charming. "I'm looking for Joe Bryant."

"Name?"

"Edward Nigma."

At that, the woman jerked her head to look at Edward. Edward cheekily tipped his hat to her. "Hello."

The woman proceeded to let out an ear piecing shriek. Edward had to drop his cane to cover his ears. "It's quite all right, I'm only here to-"

"Get out!" the woman caterwauled, tossing her coffee cup at him. Edward barely managed to dodge that before she began throwing the contents of her desk at him. "You're not putting me in any death traps you psycho!"

"I'm reformed!" Edward shouted back, holding up a chair to shield himself from the projectiles. "I don't do that anymore! I've been a private investigator for months!" First the Sirens double crossed him, then Dr. Young nearly tasered him, and now this woman was trying to brain him with knick-knacks and a novelty calendar. What was it lately with the women in this city wanting him maimed?

"What's going on out here!?"

Both Edward and the secretary looked up to see an African American man standing in the hallway. He wasn't an especially tall man, but he was built solidly and had a no nonsense air about him. The man narrowed his dark eyes at Edward. "Can I help you?"

Edward placed the chair back where he'd picked it up, confident that the secretary wouldn't continue her onslaught with this man around. "Are you Joe Bryant?"

"Yeah. This about Dr. Kellerman?"

Edward raised an eyebrow. Alright, maybe he should have expected that. "Can we speak in private?"

Bryant nodded. He turned to the secretary. "Beth, hold my calls."

The secretary looked shocked, but nodded. "Let me know if I need to call the cops Joe."

Bryant laughed a bit and Edward felt a bit offended. "I'll be fine." Bryant turned to Edward. "We can talk in my office. Follow me."

Edward followed him down the hallway towards his office, aware of the secretary glaring daggers into his back the entire time. Bryant turned a corner and waved him into a small office. Edward took a few moments to scan the contents of the office. It was a rather spartan environment, fitting for a former security guard. There weren't only the basic office necessities and a few scattered news articles on the walls, detailing the work of the support group and Sharp's campaign. Edward noticed a framed picture on the desk. It was of Bryant himself with a group of other Arkham guards. They were probably all dead now, Edward supposed. He idly picked up the picture, tracing his fingers around the edge of the frame. "Friends of yours?" he asked.

"Don't push it Nigma," Bryant warned, shutting the door behind them. It occurred to Edward that it may be in his best interest not to antagonize a man who looked like he could bench press him. Edward put the picture back on the desk.

"Well then, I'll come right to the point. You obviously heard about what happened to Kellerman at the fundraiser last night."

"Well yeah," Bryant answered. "It was all over the news. And I know you're working for Sharp. Did he tell you about me?"

"No, Sharp never mentioned you," Edward said. Sharp hadn't mentioned a lot of things to him. "Mind telling me your whereabouts last night?"

"I was at my own event here. I've got at least fifty people who can verify that. You want their names?"

"In a moment," Edward replied. "There's more. Before the murder, Sharp had been receiving letters. These letters demanded that he tell the truth about what happened during the Joker's riot last year and reveal the murderer responsible for what happened."

Edward paused for a moment to observe Bryant's reaction. He seemed surprised for a moment, but then looked to Edward to continue. Edward obliged. "You haven't exactly been shy about sharing your opinion of Sharp."

Bryant huffed. "Yeah. But any letter I write about Sharp has my name on it. As far as a 'murderer responsible' goes, isn't that obviously the Joker?"

Blunt, but honest. Edward had to concede that the man had a point. "One would think. But then again, grief has a way of making even the most logical people rather irrational. Whoever wrote these letters is under the impression that a doctor was working with Joker, hence Kellerman being killed."

Bryant raised an eyebrow. "That's why Kellerman died? Doc Young was the one who made that TITAN crap."

Edward was taken aback by this. If Bryant knew that, then he couldn't be the killer. Edward shook his head a bit. "It seems that project wasn't as secret as she and Sharp led me to believe. Did all of you know?"

Bryant shrugged. "Not really. I mean, I worked the Arkham Mansion shift. That was where her office was. Me and the other guys who worked it knew she was working on something. After the riot happened and she quit, I kind of put two and two together. I don't blame her for what happened though. Joker almost killed her too."

Well, so much for cracking this case in time for the evening press. If Bryant's alibi checked out, and he suspected it would, Edward now was back to square one. Then again, he thought, Bryant was a former security guard who voluntarily left the Asylum on account of Sharp. He could be a useful source of information.

"Besides," Bryant continued. "If I was going to get rid of any doctor at Arkham, it'd be Dr. Strange."

"Dr. Strange? Hugo Strange?" Edward repeated. He remembered that doctor. Last he'd heard, he was out of the country. When had he returned to Arkham? More importantly, why hadn't Sharp told him about Strange being at Arkham?

"One and the same," Bryant nodded. "Young wasn't gone for more than a day before he took over her job as head of research."

Edward felt a chill go down his spine at that. Maybe it had been for the best he was in a coma at that time. "And you objected to that?"

"Young wasn't a saint, but at least she had good intentions," Bryant explained. "Strange though...well, I guess I don't have to tell you what he thinks of the patients."

No, he didn't. "I'm a bit surprised. One would think that after what you experienced in the riot, you wouldn't be too sympathetic towards my type."

Bryant rolled his eyes. "Oh come on man. It's not just 'your type' at Arkham. There are a lot of sick people there who aren't criminals. They didn't deserve Strange turning the place into a gulag."

"I thought Strange was just the head of research. Sharp's still the warden."

"Yeah, in name only. After Strange came on board, Sharp started campaigning even more. He barely came to the asylum after that. He'd only show up if he absolutely had to or for a photo op. He let Strange take over. After he let Strange fire Aaron, I quit."

"I see." Edward was starting to get a clearer picture of what Arkham had become in his abscence. "And the support group?"

"I started it up when I left the asylum. After the riot, Sharp made a big speech about how the 'tragedy at Arkham' was just another example of how Commissioner Gordon and Mayor Hill had failed this city. About how he was the only one who could make Gotham safe again." Bryant's face darkened. "The only thing Sharp cared about was how he could use the riot to help himself. He let Strange push out anyone who wasn't on board with toughening Arkham up, and he can't spare five minutes for anyone of the survivors or the family members of the guards and patients who died. Fuck, he can't even be bothered to show up at his own asylum anymore. When I was still there, he'd send his own campaign staff to pick things up for him at his office."

Edward had been absently following along when the last part of what Bryant had said sank in. "Sharp's campaign staff have access to his office at the Asylum?"

"They did while I was there. They probably still do."

No. How had he missed this? How had he not even considered this? He'd assumed that it was an inside job from the beginning, but he'd gotten attached to the security guard theory-security guard!

"Thank you for your time," he said to Bryant hastily. "I'll need the names of the people who were with you last night. Just to verify your alibi of course."

Bryant gave him a confused look, but nodded. "Yeah. Here," he walked over to his desk and pulled out a list. Before he gave it to Edward, he gave him a quizzical look. "Just one thing: I thought you were working for Sharp to solve this. Why do you want to know so much about him and the Asylum? Do you think he's involved?"

"Do you?" Edward asked, taking the sheet of paper from Bryant and sticking it into his pocket. "Besides, I'm just taking his money. Solving the case is what I'm really here for. Would it be alright if I canebrakes to you again? For further information?"

Bryant blinked, then grinned. "Yeah, that's fine. If Sharp's involved, take him out."

Edward left the office and made his way towards the front door of the building, ignoring the glares of the dumpy secretary. He'd been in talking with Bryant longer than he thought. Dusk was beginning to fall on Gotham. Edward ignored his surroundings as his mind went over the facts in his head. Every new variation he came up with led to the same conclusion: he didn't know who the murderer was still, but he knew who did. And Sharp or Strange, he wasn't sure which yet, or both, knew from the beginning what was going on and had let him stumble about like a damn fool. What was their game?

Meh was so preoccupied by his thoughts that he didn't notice the dark shadow following him until it had grabbed onto him and pulled him into an alley way.

"Hey!" he cried out, until he got a look at who it was. "God, I hate when you do that!"

"I've been through Arkham's security protocol," Batman said matter of factly, releasing Nigma's arm. "On each of the nights the letters were dropped off, Sharp's key card was used to access his office."

"That makes sense," Edward huffed, brushing off his sleeve. "According to one Joe Bryant, Sharp's been in the habit of allowing his campaign staff access to his Arkham office. You can add that to the list of things Sharp's been holding back from me."

"There's more," the Dark Knight said. "The security cameras on each night in question were cut out each night the letters would have been dropped off after the first letter. The footage from that first night is missing."

Strange then. That would fit in with Bryant's depiction of him as the real man in charge at Arkham. "My initial theory is still correct," Edward said. "It was an inside job after all."

"I'm not hear to prove your theories right," Batman said with a slight edge. "What else have you found out?"

"I don't know who the murderer is, but I'm confident I know who sent the letters. But first, I think I need to speak with my client."

"The security guard, Dennis?"

Edward gaped a bit at the vigilante, then glared. "And how long have you known?"

"I don't. But he's the only one if the campaign staff who has the flexibility to make the trip. He should be with Sharp now. Let's go, 'partner'."

"Oh, are we doing this together now? Don't you trust me?" Edward asked acerbically.

Batman ignored him, walking towards his where his own ridiculous car must have been parked. Edward couldn't resist adding one last parting shot.

"He's my client! I'm taking the lead when it comes to questioning him!"

Batman made no response, having already disappeared. With a frustrated groan, Edward fished out his cell phone. He'd be damned if he let the Dark Knight beat him to Sharp.

"Warden? It's Edward Nigma. I need to meet with you. Urgently. I know who sent the letters."


	8. Confrontation

One hour later, Edward found himself sitting on Sharp's desk at his campaign headquarters, waiting for the warden and his entourage to show. He idly balanced his cane on the palm of his hand while he waited. Juvenile maybe, but he could use the distraction. It also helped him focus on what exactly he'd say to Sharp. He couldn't afford to be too aggressive, considering what he'd heard from Bryant, but some force may be needed to compel Sharp to tell him the full truth of the events leading up to the murder. Edward hated to admit it, but Batman's presence may actually be welcome. The Dark Knight wouldn't let Sharp throw Edward back into Arkham simply for asking uncomfortable questions, he hoped.

The sound of the door opening broke Edward's concentration, almost causing him to drop his cane. He looked up to see Warden Sharp himself enter the office, along with a harried looking Kocen. Edward's eyes narrowed slightly when he realized that Dennis wasn't with them. Sharp himself looked irritated, though whether this was because of being called into the office at seven o'clock on a Saturday night or because of Edward's sitting on his desk, Edward wasn't certain.

"Well, here we are," Sharp huffed. "Now, Edward, you said that you found out who the murderer is?"

"No," Edward corrected, hopping off Sharp's desk. "I know who dropped off the letters. There's a slight difference."

Sharp's face reddened. "I canceled a campaign event at the office for this meeting Edward. I'm in no mood for your games."

"Fine then," Edward said. "The person who dropped the letters off is indeed an employee of yours. But they are _not_ an employee at the asylum, unlike what we believed earlier."

"You mean what _you_ believed," Sharp huffed.

Edward waved a hand dismissively. "Semantics, warden. To come right to the point: the person leaving the letters is Dennis, your security guard."

Edward watched as both Sharp and Kocen's expressions turn from impatient to confused. He was certain Kocen had nothing to do with this nonsense, but he wasn't sure if Sharp truly was as big an idiot as he appeared to be, or a very good actor.

"That's preposterous!" Sharp declared. "Dennis came to us very highly recommended. What evidence do you have against him?"

"More than enough," Edward bluffed. In truth, what he had was very circumstantial, but he'd caught people with less. "Firstly: whoever has been leaving the letters has the time to leave them at both Arkham and at headquarters here. Dennis's lax work schedule gives him plenty of opportunities to leave the letters as consistently as they've been dropped off."

"And just how did he get past Arkham's security?" Sharp asked. "You said yourself that whoever dropped off the letters had to have had some kind of access! Dennis was a member of my campaign staff!"

"That's true," Kocen agreed. "Campaign staff don't have access to the asylum."

A sly smile came across Edward's face. He had Sharp now. "You may not have had access to the asylum, Mr. Kocen," Edward said. He turned to address Sharp. "But campaign staff have been at the asylum before, haven't they Warden?"

Sharp's face flushed. Kocen gave him a confused look. "Quincy?"

"I've been told by a former Arkham employee that you're in the habit of sending staffers to run errands for you. Specifically, to fetch things for you at your office in the asylum. Was Dennis one of those staffers?"

"Certainly not," Sharp answered, a little too adamantly to be convincing.

"No?" Edward asked. "Then tell me: who was using your key card on the nights that the letters were dropped off at Arkham? Was it you?"

Sharp gave Edward a vindictive look. "You aren't allowed access to Arkham's security server," he growled out. "If you've been hacking into it, I'll have you locked up-"

"I'm the one who told Nigma about the key card."

The three men turned to see Batman. Edward wasn't sure when he'd come in, but he was actually happy to see him. Not that he'd let that on, of course.

"What's he doing here Edward!?" Sharp hissed at him.

"You haven't answered my question Warden," Edward repeated. "If you didn't use your key card those nights, who did?"

Sharp's shoulders slumped. "I've been swamped with campaign events the last month," Sharp admitted. "Dennis volunteered to help make sure important paperwork was dropped off at my office when I was indisposed."

Edward clicked his tongue. "Oh Warden," he said in a condescending tone. "If you didn't suspect Dennis after these letters started appearing, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. And if you did and you didn't tell me, you owe Kellerman's family an apology."

"But Dennis was in the ball room when Kellerman was killed," Kocen said. "He couldn't have been the killer."

"Dennis may not have been the person to pull the trigger, but he knows who did," Edward answered. "According to an eyewitness and my own video surveillance, Dennis spent a large portion of the time leading up to the murder on his phone with someone. It's not a coincidence the killer struck when and where they did. Dennis must have warned them about the security protocols that were put into place."

"And how the killer knew to get Kellerman," Kocen added. "Dennis must have told them what he looked like."

"That's my belief, yes." Edward said.

"And just how did Dennis know to target Dr. Kellerman?" Sharp asked Edward. Edward didn't appreciate the accusatory tone.

"Unfortunately, he got that from me," Edward admitted. "When I first examaimed the letters. That's further proof of his involvement."

"So then, Kellerman's death is your fault!" Sharp shouted at Edward. "Your precense escalated the situation!"

Edward grit his teeth. Time to drop all pretense at civility. "May I remind you Sharp, that you came to me? If you hadn't withheld information from me about Dennis, Dr. Young, and about how you conduct affairs at the Asylum, Kellerman would be alive and Dennis and his cohort would be in jail!"

"I never wanted to-" Sharp stopped mid sentence.

"Never wanted to what?" Edward asked. "Hire me? Why did you then? And why did you lie to me about the GCPD turning you away? Were you trying to justify hiring me?" Edward slowly advanced on the warden, who refused to meet his gaze. "What is this? Was this a publicity stunt that got out of control? Or were you trying to set me up?"

Sharp made no response. After a moment of silence, Batman stepped forward.

"We're wasting time here. Where's Baxter?"

"He never came into work today," Kocen said. "He's not answering his phone either."

"We'll need his address. Now."

Kocen crossed over to Sharp's desk and pulled out a file. Edward continued to glare at Sharp, who stared at his feet. For such a blustering fool, he was being quiet.

Kocen pulled out a piece of paper and gave it to Batman. "This is all we have on file on Dennis. I swear to God, I didn't know-"

Batman took the paper from him without a word and turned to leave. "Nigma?" He called out.

Edward followed him out, but not before giving Kocen a pitying look.

"If I were you, I'd look for another job."

"He knows more than he's letting on. I'd stake my intellectual superiority over it." Edward said as he followed Batman out of the office.

"I agree," Batman answered. "But I don't think he intended for Kellerman to die. I don't think he thought the situation would escalate the way it did.

"Then he's an even bigger idiot than I thought. What I don't understand is why he hired me if he hates me and had no intention of being cooperative. I shouldn't have had to find out from an ex-employee of his that he was letting campaign staff have access to the asylum."

Batman paused as he neared the Batmobile. "Maybe that was the point," he murmured. "He fed you only the basics to see if you could figure out what was going on on your own."

Edward considered this. "You mean that this whole sorry affair was a test?" Interesting reversal, given that _he_ was the one who tested other people's intellectual capabilities. Sharp didn't seem the type...but Edward remembered what Bryant had told him.

"Strange."

Batman turned to look at him. "What?"

Edward was dying to know what the Dark Knight knew about Dr. Strange, but decided to play this card close to the chest. For now. "Never mind. So," he said, leaning on the hood of the Batmobile and giving Batman a cheeky grin. "Who gets to be Good Cop when we go fetch our accessory to murder?"

Batman narrowed his eyes. "Get off my car Nigma."

The former rogue and his adversary arrived at Dennis' apartment building at the same time. The two men entered together, walking up the flight of stairs to Dennis's apartment on the third floor. Edward letting Batman go in first. Just in case.

"When did you catch on that Dennis was the one who was leaving the letters?" Edward asked.

"After I spoke with Dr. Liew and Dr. Cassidy," Batman gruffly answered. " They mentioned that they'd seen Dennis with Sharp's key card at Arkham in the days leading up to Kellerman's murder. Also, Dr. Young's involvement in the TITAN project became known to all of the surviving staff members after the riot at Arkham. I figured that whoever was leaving the letters would have to be someone who didn't work there if they didn't already know that."

That would have been nice to know before he'd wasted hours going through the employee list, Edward thought darkly. Batman held out his arm when they reached the third floor.

"Watch out," he warned. "Baxter may be expecting us."

Edward rolled his eyes. "Please," he said, walking around Batman towards the front door. "I'm not one of those children you keep recruiting. I know how to handle a suspect."

Edward leaned his head against the door. He didn't hear anything from inside. He took a step back and cautiously rapped his cane against the door. It cracked open on its own accord.

"Unlocked?" he muttered.

Batman stepped forward, Batarang at the ready. Carefully, Edward pushed the rest of the door open and the two men entered the apartment.

"It's almost as small as mine is," Edward said as he reached for a light switch. "In addition to using them to run his errands for him, Sharp clearly doesn't pay them enough." He found the switch next to the door and flipped it, illuminating the small space.

In the center of the living room, lay Dennis Baxter, dead, with two gunshot wounds to the chest. From the look and the smell of it, he'd been dead for the better part of that day.

"Oh beautiful," Edward groaned. "Just when I thought I'd gotten to the bottom of this."

Batman walked up to the corpse and took stock. ".38 caliber," he said. "Same as the gun that killed Kellerman. The killer must have been worried that he'd talk."

Dr. Young had mentioned to Edward that Dennis had seemed agitated when she saw him on the phone the previous night. "Perhaps Dennis was as in the dark about the killer's intent as Sharp was," he offered up as an explanation. What had become of his phone, Edward wondered.

Edward walked past Batman towards what he assumed was the late security guard's bedroom. Sure enough, on the nightstand, was Dennis' cell phone. Edward picked it up and scrolled through the call history.

"Let's see: Friday night, around 8:30...Ah ha!" Dennis had made an outgoing call to a Gotham number at 8:25 that had lasted for over half an hour. That fit in with both the video surveillance and Dr. Young's account. He'd received a ten minute call from the same number early that morning. It was the last call he had received.

Pulling out his own cell phone, Edward dialed the number. After three rings, the voicemail picked up.

 _You have reached the voice mailbox of Patrick Horner. Please leave a message at the tone._

Edward hung up, a triumphant grin on his face. "Got you."

"Well?"

Edward turned to see Batman approach.

"According to his cell phone, our dearly departed Dennis made a half hour call the night of the murder to one Patrick Horner. More than enough time to tell him the layout of the land. Also, he received a call from the same Patrick Horner this morning, not long before he died." Edward smirked at the vigilante. He wasn't obsessed with proving his superiority over him. Really. But it felt good to get one over on him. "I think we can safely conclude that this Patrick Horner is a viable suspect."

"What's his connection to Arkham? I don't recall there being a Horner on their staff list."

Neither did Edward. "He could be a family member or a friend of one," he said. He snapped his fingers. "Here's my theory: this Patrick Horner lost someone in the Arkham riot. He's spent the last year wallowing in grief, eventually blaming the Arkham staff themselves for this loved one's death, when Sharp doesn't come clean with all the details. Now coincidentally, he happens to make the acquaintance of Dennis, our security guard. Or maybe they knew each other beforehand, it doesn't really matter. Horner realizes he has an in to Arkham through Dennis and he writes the letters, threatening Sharp to reveal the identity of the person who was responsible for the Arkham mess. Now Dennis, whether out of compassion for this Horner character, or maybe because he can't stand Sharp, not that I blame him, agrees to drop off these letters for his friend. Sharp doesn't give in though. He hires me, for reasons that are still unknown and may not be relevant. But then, I work out that a doctor was involved. Dennis was there for that conversation and tells Horner that not only am I on the case, I've figured out that a doctor was involved."

Sharp was right in a way. Edward's presence had, indirectly, escalated the situation. _Sorry Kellerman_. Edward shook his head and continued.

"Horner realizes that if I'm on the case, it's only a matter of time until he gets caught. He decides to target the doctors while he still can. When Dennis calls him and tells him what's going on at the fundraiser, he decides to strike. Maybe Dennis knew what he was going to do. Maybe he doesn't and tries to talk him down. Either way, Horner kills Kellerman and leaves the final letter. He calls Dennis to either get more information from him, or he figures that he's a liability and needs to take care of him. He kills Dennis and lies low until the memorial Monday morning, where either Sharp confesses who was involved, or he kills as many doctors as he can." At the end of his spiel, he turned to Batman. "Well?" he asked. "Am I brilliant, or am I brilliant?"

"Interesting theory," Batman answered. "How do you intend to prove it?"

Edward frowned. The Dark Knight always did seem to know how to take the fun out of the game.

"I have his phone number. Finding his address shouldn't be too taxing for the GCPD, let alone me."

"I'll find his address," Batman grumbled. "I need to alert Commissioner Gordon about what's happened here. You focus on figuring out Horner's connection to Arkham."

"I don't recall my reformation being license for you to start giving me orders!" Edward snapped.

"If you're right about Horner, then he'll kill anyone even tangentially linked to the Arkham break out." Batman growled out. "What do you think he'll do to you if he sees you heading his way?"

Edward saw the point, but he'd never admit it to him. "Because you care so much about my safety," he said sardonically. "Just like you cared about Jonathan's."

Batman's eyes narrowed. It was a low blow, but Edward didn't care. Batman turned towards the bedroom window and opened it. Before he left, he gave Edward one last look.

"There are people looking out for you Nigma, even if you can't bring yourself to believe it." And with that, Batman disappeared again.

Edward put his rival out of his mind as he considered his next steps. Crossing Horner against the names of the deceased Arkham staff would take time, time he didn't have. He needed a short cut.

That was why he found himself hanging Joe Bryant's door later that evening.

"What the Hell, man?" Bryant asked in exasperation. "Couldn't this have waited until morning?"

"Is there a Patrick Horner in your support group?" Edward asked in a clipped tone of voice.

"Patrick Horner?" Bryant repeated, brow creasing in thought. "Yeah. There is. Was actually."

"Was?"

"Yeah. About three weeks ago, we had Sharp speak with us regarding the memorial plans. Patrick got in his face about what happened at the Asylum and started asking what he was covering up. Sharp almost had him arrested. Patrick hasn't been to a meeting since." Bryant shook his head. "Poor guy. He lost his fiancée in the riot. It really messed him up."

"I can imagine," Edward said, even though he couldn't.

Bryant looked at him quizzically. "You think Patrick's the killer?"

Edward chuckled a bit. "I don't think so, Bryant. I know so."


	9. The Memorial

Author's note: here we are at last, the climax of our story. I want to thank everyone who has followed, faved or written a review so far. You guys keep me going. Enjoy!

It was overcast the Monday morning of the Arkham Riot Memorial. Fitting really, considering the sombreness of the occasion. Sharp had originally envisioned a grand scale affair, complete with him addressing a crowd from a set up stage in the middle of the space in Gotham Central Park that the city had dedicated for the memorial. The threat of rain however had dampened the crowds Sharp was hoping for to a group of reporters, Joe Bryant's survivor's group, and assorted city officials.

Well, the threat of rain and the fact that there was still a murderer on the loose.

After Edward had spoken to Bryant, he'd spent the hours between Saturday night and Sunday morning confirming Patrick Horner's link to the Arkham riot. He had indeed lost his fiancée in the attack. A pretty young medical intern named Stacy Spier. She'd gone to Arkham to try her hand at healing the poor lost souls, no doubt, only to wind up trapped in a room in the medical building when the Joker released one of his gas bombs. Edward had grimaced a bit when he read the autopsy report. Given a choice, he'd take a bullet between the eyes any day. Edward had been right too about the connection between Horner and Dennis. According to Dennis' social calendar, the two had been college roommates.

Once he'd obtained this information, Edward had contacted Sharp, as well as the GCPD. He wouldn't normally even think of calling them in, but Sharp's behavior and Batman's known involvement left him little choice in the matter. At least if he was the one to reach out to Gordon, he'd reasoned to himself, he'd be able to maintain some control over the investigation. And maybe, just maybe, he wanted to see the warden squirm as he attempted to explain himself to Gordon. It had been a tense meeting the previous afternoon, to say the least.

* * *

"I thought I told you to stay out of our investigation Nigma," Bullock had growled out at him.

"And I did," Edward had retorted. "This is information I collected during my own investigation into the threatening letters. I can't help it if our paths just happened to intersect."

"Just happened my ass, Nigma. I'm getting really sick of you-"

"That's enough Bullock," Gordon had interjected, holding his hand up. Bullock fell silent, but continued to glare at Edward. Gordon then turned his attention to Sharp, who had been in the corner fixing Edward with a glare of his own. "And just when were you going to inform me of this Sharp?"

Sharp's face reddened. "I thought it was a matter my campaign could handle internally," he huffed. "I certainly didn't think anyone would die."

That may be so, Edward had thought, but you certainly didn't give me anything I could have used to stop it.

Gordon turned back to Bullock. "I want an APB out on this Patrick Horner. Go to his home and work and bring him in for questioning. In the meantime, I think we need to consider postponing the memorial."

"Out of the question!" Sharp declared. "This memorial has been in the works for months! I won't have it postponed because of one vindictive lunatic!"

"You need to consider the safety of your staff Sharp," Gordon answered, clearly as irritated with Sharp as Sharp was with him. "If Nigma's right, Horner's going to target them. The last thing anyone needs is for this memorial to turn into a shooting spree."

"We do have security measures in place, don't we Edward?" Sharp had turned to Edward then, almost beseechingly.

"We did," Edward answered. "But they won't be of any help now." Edward let out a frustrated sigh at the confused expression on Sharp's face. "I went over the security plans with Dennis, remember? I think it's safe to assume that anything I told him, he told Horner."

Sharp's face fell at that. "Very well," he huffed. "I'll call the staff and advise them to skip the ceremony. But the memorial will take place. Just catch this man Gordon." Sharp had left the office then, brushing past Edward without a word. Bullock followed after him, also refusing to acknowledge the private investigator.

"You should probably warn Leland and Young too," Edward pointed out to the commissioner. "They're targets too."

"We'll do that," Gordon had said, returning to his paperwork. "The GCPD will take it from here Nigma."

Edward had looked at Gordon with one eyebrow raised. "What do you mean? This is still my case."

"No, it's not," Gordon said, meeting his gaze. "You've done quite enough already."

Edward's eyes had narrowed at the implication. "If you're suggesting that Kellerman and Baxter's deaths were my fault-"

"I'm not Nigma," Gordon interrupted. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, I appreciate you bringing this information to our attention. But frankly, we'll have enough of a mess on our hands trying to keep an eye on things tomorrow morning. We don't need you and your attention seeking making things any worse."

Edward's fist had clenched. Of course. Why should he have expected anything different? "Then I'll just leave you to it," he had said in a measured tone. "Good afternoon, Commissioner."

* * *

As far as Edward knew, GCPD's search for Horner had come up empty. And so, Edward found himself at the memorial that drab Monday morning, as far in the back and out of Gordon and Sharp's sight as he could manage. He'd even abandoned his trademark green attire for the day, opting for a white shirt and dark slacks. He kept a hold on his trusty cane however, just in case he did encounter Horner. The more rational part of him was saying that perhaps it would be for the best if the police handled actually apprehending the suspected murderer, but as usual, the more prideful side won out. He wanted to be the one to bring Horner in.

Edward scanned the crowd, as sparse as it was. From his vantage point, Edward could only just see Sharp bloviating onstage, but he doubted that Horner would get too close. No, Horner would be near the back, if he was even here at all, waiting for a moment to strike. It's what he'd done at the fundraiser, and it's what Nigma would have done, if he were still inclined towards villainy. At least Sharp had done the sensible thing and had warned off his staff. If Horner did show up, he wouldn't have anyone to target.

"What the Hell are you doing here!?"

Edward turned abruptly at the sound, only to come face to face with an extremely angry looking Dr. Young. Either she'd ignored Sharp's warning, or she'd never received it at all. Edward blinked. She shouldn't be here.

"I could ask you the same thing," he asked her. "You do remember me telling you that there's a murderer who wants you dead, don't you?"

"You don't have any right to be here," she continued either not hearing him or not caring. "This is for the survivors and their families! How dare you come here and-"

"Yes yes yes, I'm a terrible person who's only a second away from relapsing and all that." Edward interrupted, not so gently grabbing her upper arm. This was a distraction he didn't need. Edward thanked his good judgement in hanging back away from the bulk of the crowd. "You need to leave Dr. Young. Now."

Dr. Young wrenched her arm out of his grip. "Don't you touch me," she hissed out. "If anyone needs to leave it's you!"

"I don't have time for this," Edward grit out. "If you want to take chances with your life that's your affair Dr. Young, but in case you hadn't noticed I'm trying to work here-"

"Excuse me?"

Both Edward and Dr. Young turned to see a young man, tall, slender, with a mop of sandy blond hair covered by a baseball cap standing there, dark, bloodshot eyes focused on Dr. Young. Immediately, Edward's inner alarm started up. "Are you Dr. Young?" the young man asked.

Don't say yes.

"I am," Dr. Young asked, face softening as she approached the man. "May I help you?"

Two science Masters and absolutely no common sense to show for it.

The young man's eyes widened and went to pull something out of his pocket. Edward didn't need to be a genius to know he was going for a gun. Edward stepped forward himself. "Don't even think about it Patrick Horner," he warned holding his cane out. Edward was never a fighter, but hopefully the sight of his tell tale questioned mark cane should be enough to intimidate the twitchy young man into compliance. Hopefully.

Horner's eyes widened when he recognized Edward. "You!" He pulled out his gun. A .38, just like the weapon used to kill Kellerman and Baxter. There were moments Edward hated being right all the time.

Dr. Young's face paled. "Oh my God!"

Horner aimed his gun at her. Thinking quickly, Edward swung his cane at the man, knocking the gun out of his hands. "Run!" he shouted at Young, before Horner tackled him to the ground. Horner punched him in the face, before reaching over him to grab his gun. Edward grabbed a hold of his shirt and attempted to flip them over and gain some momentum in the fight, but Horner wrapped his hands around his throat.

"I'll kill you," Horner said, face twisted into a demonic scowl. "Just like you killed my Stacy."

"I wasn't even at Arkham when that happened!" Edward choked out, desperate attempting to pull Horner's hands off of his throat. "I was in a coma!"

"So what?" Horner asked him, tightening his hold. "You people are responsible for her death. You freaks and the doctors who protect you!"

Edward could only make a strangled sound in reply. His vision began to fade. Where in the Hell were the cops? With the last bit of strength he had, Edward drove his knee into Horner's stomach. Horner let go of his throat and fell back with a grunt. Seeing his chance, Edward shoved Horner off of him and took a deep gasp of breath. Without wasting a moment, he crawled over to where he'd dropped his cane. Just one blow and he could take Horner out.

"Don't move, freak."

Edward paused. Horner was standing over him, holding his gun to Edward's head. Evidently, the blow Edward had given him hadn't bought him nearly enough time.

"I'll kill you," Horner repeated. "I'll kill everyone responsible for my Stacy."

"The GCPD's here Horner," Edward said. "They'll be on you the second you fire that gun. You probably won't even be able to get out alive-"

"Shut up!" Horner cried out, his voice breaking. "You think I care if I die? At least I'll be with Stacy again."

"I can't imagine she'd be too happy to see you," Edward said. "You did kill one of her co-workers, not to mention your own college friend."

Horner pressed the barrel to Edward's temple. "He was going to tell the cops. I had to kill him." Edward could hear Horner pull back the safety. Edward cringed and shut his eyes. This is what he got for trying to be anything other than a criminal.

"I'll see you in Hell, Nigma."

"Stop!"

Edward's eyes flew open. Dr. Young? Both he and Horner turned. Sure enough, she was still there. She hadn't run when Edward had told her to.

"Really?" Edward groaned. "You couldn't at least have run to get one of the cops?"

"Shut up Nigma," Dr. Young answered, not taking her eyes off of Horner. She cautiously took a step towards him.

Horner pressed the gun to Edward's temple. "I'll kill him," he said.

"I think he means it," Edward warned.

"Nigma wasn't responsible for the deaths at Arkham," Dr. Young said. She bit her lip before continuing. "I was."

Horner dropped the gun from Edward's temple. Edward let out a breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Horner turn towards Dr. Young.

"You?" Horner asked.

Dr. Young nodded. "Yes. I created the formula that turned Joker and his men into monsters. The Joker funded it. I tried to give him his money back when I found out, but-" she stopped. She began again, in a halting voice. "It doesn't matter. I did it."

Horner looked at her, eyes flooding with tears. "Why?" He asked in a plaintive tone. "Why would you make such a thing?"

"I designed it to cure our most extreme patients," Dr. Young explained. "I wanted to use it to help people." She let out a bitter laugh. "No, that's not true. I wanted to be the one to cure the super criminals, to have my name known throughout the whole country and I didn't give a damn what I had to do to accomplish that."

While Dr. Young engaged Horner, Edward made slow, small movements towards his cane. He could reach it, if she could keep him occupied for just a few more moments.

"It doesn't really matter why I did it," Dr. Young continued. "Over a hundred people are still dead no matter what motives I give myself. Nothing I can say can change that." She made a few more steps towards Horner. "If you want your revenge, take it."

Edward almost paused. What was she doing? After he was nearly killed trying to save her, she was just going to let herself be killed anyway? Some gratitude.

Horner paused to consider her offer. "Just like that?"

"Yes," Dr. Young said. "Enough people have died on my account. End it."

Horner closed the distance between himself and Dr. Young. Edward took the opportunity to rush up to his cane and grab hold.

Horner raised his gun and placed the barrel right between Dr. Young's eyes. She didn't even flinch. Cold and clinical to the end. "Do it," she whispered.

Edward had his cane now, but he even if he ran, he wouldn't be able to get to Horner before he pulled the trigger. It wasn't supposed to end like this.

Just as Horner was ready to pull, a black object flew from out of nowhere and knocked the gun out of his hand. Horner let out a cry of pain and grabbed his wrist. Not wasting a moment, Edward rushed up to Horner, swung his cane back as far as he could and cracked it against the side of his face. Dr. Young stood frozen in shock as Edward brought the cane down again on the prone Horner.

"That's enough Nigma," Edward heard a voice from the foliage say. Edward looked up to see Batman approach them.

"And just how long have you been there?" Edward asked.

"Long enough," the vigilante answered, as he cuffed Horner. "I thought Horner might still show up here, even after Sharp warned the staffers. Just like I thought you might show up as well. You have a knack for attracting trouble."

Edward shrugged. "It's a gift."

Batman and Edward looked towards the stage, where they could both see Gordon and Bullock approaching. Edward and Horner's scuffle had managed to attract attention after all.

"Aren't you going to turn him in?" Edward asked Batman as he turned to leave.

"It's your case Nigma," Batman answered. "Just try not to make too much of a spectacle out of it." Batman turned abruptly and ran off into the foliage.

Edward turned to Dr. Young then. The two of them made eye contact and said nothing. Edward felt as if he should say something to her, but then Gordon and Bullock caught up to them and the moment passed.

"Gentlemen," Edward said, triumphantly. "I believe I have our murderer."


	10. Loose Ends

The next few hours were something of a blur for Edward. Between being questioned by Bullock and Gordon for defying explicit instructions to not interfere, yelled at by Sharp for causing a ruckus at his event and being toasted by the media for his role in apprehending Horner (although he freely admitted to enjoying that part), it was well into late afternoon by the time he'd gotten a moment to himself. Horner had long since been carried off by GCPD, with Joe Bryant accompanying him, no doubt out of some sense of camaraderie. The rest of the crowd had long since dispersed, apart from a few members of Bryant's group hanging about the actual physical memorial. Edward ignored them, as he scanned the crowd for one particular person.

It only took him a moment to spot her, directly in front of the large, black granite slab that had been commissioned to serve as tribute to the people who'd died at Arkham. As Edward drew closer, he could make out names carved into the slab, no doubt the names of the various guards and patients lost. As far as these things went, Edward supposed it sufficed, even if it was a little bland for his tastes. But then again, even he could acknowledge that the designers and city officials wouldn't care to take a former super villain's tastes in account.

He paused about three feet from the face of the memorial, making sure to give the woman her space. His recent experience in dealing with her had taught him that much.

"I'm a bit surprised you're still here," he addressed her. "Most attempted murder victims I've met usually are home or in the hospital at this point."

Dr. Young didn't turn to face him, instead idly tracing an engraved name with her finger. "What do you want, Nigma?"

"I want lots of things, Dr. Young, most of which I'm not likely to get. But right now, I'd settle for an explanation."

"An explanation for what?"

"Why did you come here today? Didn't Sharp or Gordon warn you about Horner?"

"They did," she answered in a monotonous tone.

"And yet you came here anyway."

"It's where I needed to be."

"Funny. You don't strike me as the sentimental type. Or the type to needlessly risk your life."

Dr. Young clenched her fists tightly. "I've answered your question. Go away, Nigma."

"You were quick to hand yourself over to Horner too."

"He had a gun to your head. Should I have let him kill you?"

"Why would you care if he did? Aren't I just the same malignant narcissist you treated at Arkham years ago, as you so eloquently put it? I think saving my life was just an excuse for you."

"An excuse for what?"

"An excuse to die."

A moment of silence passed between them. Dr. Young still had not turned to look at Edward, a fact which was beginning to irritate him. "Am I wrong?" he asked her.

Dr. Young turned to face him, finally. Her eyes had filled with tears, which were streaming down her cheeks. She looked like the most miserable creature Edward had ever seen. It was an uncomfortable reminder of her humanity.

"Joan warned me when I started at Arkham. She warned me what could happen if I let my guard down for even a moment around the inmates, that I could be the next Harley Quinn if I wasn't careful." She looked down at her feet. "I laughed her off. I wasn't Quinzell. I took my work seriously. I didn't allow for one distraction, I didn't even go home for my father's funeral just to make sure that the formula was perfect. I was so sure it would be the answer to curing the rogues, that I'd finally succeed where so many other people failed."

"And yet, the Joker used you too."

Dr. Young nodded. "Aaron and Batman managed to save me, but I wish they didn't. I woke up in the hospital the next day and I found out what happened. What I'd caused. Everything I'd ever worked for was gone, and over a hundred people were dead because I was too arrogant and self-involved to even think through what I was doing." Her voice hitched and a fresh wave of tears came.

Edward shuffled a bit, uncomfortable by the display. Dealing with living victims was by far his least favorite part of the job. Human emotions were the worst kind of riddles. "Those people who died at Arkham won't come back if you die. You can't do anything about that."

Dr. Young glared at him, anger breaking through the guilt and self-loathing. "I don't expect someone like you to understand, Nigma."

That put Edward out. He felt sympathy for her perhaps, but that didn't mean he had to let her use him as her punching bag. "You're right," he said acerbically. "I wouldn't understand what it's like to lose everything and have to build myself back up from scratch. Not at all."

This seemed to hit home for Dr. Young and she dropped her gaze to her feet again.

"You're just taking the easy way out Dr," Edward continued. "I thought you were smarter than that." He shook his head as he considered her. As enigmatic as she may be to the rest of the world, he could figure her out all too easily. "Besides," he said after a pause. "Death is just a means to an end for you. That's not what you really want."

"And what do I really want, Nigma?"

Edward paused for a moment, considering his words. Then the perfect riddle for the situation occurred to him.

"Riddle me this," he began.

Dr. Young groaned. "Seriously?"

"Indulge me," he said, holding up a hand. He took a breath before continuing. "Riddle me this: slayer of regrets, old and new, sought by many, found by few. What am I?"

It took only a moment for Dr. Young to work it out. "Redemption," she breathed out. "How do I find it after all I've done?"

Edward shrugged. "I only ask the riddles, Dr. Young," he said. "You'll have to solve that for yourself." He tipped his hat forward to her. "Well, adieu."

"Where are you going?"

"I have a few loose ends I need to see to." he turned to leave, but not before giving her one last look. He probably wouldn't see her again after this. Pity. "Take care, Dr. Young."

As he walked away, he didn't hear Dr. Young whisper after him.

"You too, Edward."

As Edward walked towards the park exit, he heard Sharp calling out to him.

"Edward! Wait a moment!"

Edward stopped in his tracks and let the rotund mayoral candidate catch up to him.

"Edward," Sharp began, after pausing to catch his breath. "I know we didn't see eye to eye on this case. But I really do appreciate the work you did for me." He then held his hand out, almost insistently. "I hope you'll consider working together in the future."

Edward took one look at Sharp's preoffered hand and lowered it with his own. "Well thank you, Warden. And I greatly appreciate your witholding of information from me, treating me as if I was a prop at best and a pest at worst and in general for reminding me why I despise politicians. Tracy will send you my final bill. Farewell Sharp. If you ever need detective services again, go bother the GCPD."

Sharp said nothing in response, but his face slowly reddened as Edward spoke. When Edward finished, he turned and marched off in a huff. Edward barely suppressed a smirk as he saw the warden storm off towards his entourage. Two down. One to go.

Later that night, Edward was typing away at his computer, finishing the case notes. He'd already sent a Tracy off for the night. She was a nice girl, really, but she wasn't one for this sort of work.

CASE CONCLUSION: MY INVESTIGATION INTO THE LETTERS AND SUBSEQUENT MURDER OF DR. STEPHEN KELLERMAN REVEALED THAT DENNIS BAXTER, HEAD OF SECURITY FOR THE SHARP MAYORAL CAMPAIGN WORKED IN CONCERT WITH PATRICK HORNER TO LEAVE THE LETTERS. HORNER MURDERED BAXTER SOON AFTER KELLERMAN TO COVER HIS TRACKS. HORNER APPREHENDED AT MEMORIAL CEREMONY MONDAY MAY 30, 2006.

Edward finished typing. He'd solved the actual case, sure, but there was one piece of the puzzle he still needed to crack and he didn't want this on the record. He pulled out a disposable cell phone from his desk drawer and dialed a number he'd uncovered earlier in the evening. The number dialed rang twice before it was answered.

"This is Dr. Hugo Strange."

Edward smirked. "Good evening, Dr. Strange."

There was a brief pause before the deep, accented voice answered. "Mr. Nigma. I saw you on the news earlier tonight. You apprehended Horner. Well done."

Edward chuckled a bit. "Well, that's what Sharp hired me for. Or should I say, that's what you hired me for."

There was another pause on the line. "I see that your time in that coma hasn't dulled your intellect. Or tamed that ego."

"Of course not. But you already knew that. That's why you told Sharp to hold back on the details of the case. You wanted to see if I'd fill in the gaps on my own. That's also why you destroyed the footage of Baxter leaving the letters on the first night. You didn't want to make things too easy on me."

"And if you hadn't? Do you think I was willing to risk the lives of the Arkham staff because of my faith in your abilities?"

"Maybe not," Edward admitted. "But considering how you've been pushing out security guards, maybe you wouldn't have shed a tear if your medical staff began leaving."

"That's a dangerous accusation to make, Mr. Nigma. Especially since you have no evidence."

"Well, that's not exactly a denial, Dr. Strange."

Dr. Strange chuckled then. A deep, sinister laugh that carried even through the phone line.

"And yet," Dr. Strange continued. "You're calling me. Can there be something the great Edward Nigma hasn't figured out?"

Edward bit his tongue. He was beginning to lose control of the situation. "I don't know if you remember Dr. Strange, but there's nothing I can't figure out."

"I remember, Mr. Nigma. The real question is, do you?"

Edward froze. When he didn't respond, Strange continued.

"Riddle me this: who is Edward Nigma? What kind of man is he when Riddles aren't involved? That was something you used to know, wasn't it? I can't imagine what it like for you when you woke up. Your mind, your greatest asset, the thing you've spent the last 25 years honing, perfecting, betrayed you in the end. What must it have been like I wonder, to be a complete blank slate?"

"I don't need your pity Strange," Edward seethed. "And I'm done with played with. Why did you hire me?"

Dr. Strange laughed again. "I wanted to see what kind of a man you are, Mr. Nigma. And you performed about up to my expectations. Good night Mr. Nigma. I'm sure I'll see you soon." Dr. Strange hung up.

For a few moments, Edward sat in his desk chair, unable to comprehend that he'd actually been bested by Dr. Strange. "For now," he murmured. "For now, good doctor." With a renewed sense of purpose, he began typing at his keyboard. NEW FILE: DR. HUGO STRANGE. CURRENT HEAD OF RESEARCH AND WARDEN IN ALL BUT NAME AT ARKHAM ASYLUM. TOP PRIORITY. CONFIDENTIAL.

As he typed, his attention turned to Dr. Young's journal, still resting on his desk where he'd left it two days earlier. There was that itch again. Who is Edward Nigma? Who was Edward Nigma? Maybe, maybe-

"No," he said. "Focus Edward. It can wait."

He needed a new case.


	11. Epilogue

_And here's the epilogue and conclusion to this part of the story. I want to give a sincere thanks to everyone who read it, with special shoutouts to Anonymous Red, KatherineNotGreat, nicsnort and Scarlet Firestrong. You guys made my day with your reviews._

"As you requested, I've completed my study into the question of Edward Nigma."

"And what have you discovered?"

Dr. Strange leaned back in his plush office chair. "His intellect seems to have remained at the same level as it was before his unfortunate accident," he said into the phone. "His emotional state however, is as volatile as it ever was. He hasn't fully accepted his new life, it seems. It didn't take much to plant further doubts in his mind."

"Will that be sufficient? He could sense a trap."

"He could," Strange conceded. "But the man is a compulsive. He's done a better job at hiding it, but his earlier behavior remains. I doubt he's even aware of the extent. Even if it's against his best interests, once he has an idea, it will become an obsession. It will lead him to his downfall."

"What about the Detective?"

Strange chuckled. "That relationship is as fraught as it ever was. It won't take much to turn them against each other, especially once Mr. Nigma begins acting out. The GCPD's been expecting him to backslide for months, he's had a falling out with Ms. Kyle and her associates and he is no longer on speaking terms with the other assorted super criminals. Cobblepot is on friendly terms with him, but I believe he could be persuaded to abandon him, given the correct incentive. Edward Nigma is utterly alone, with nothing and no one to anchor him to his current life. I expect to see him back in Arkham by year's end, if not sooner."

"Then you believe he is no threat?"

"None whatsoever. He's a gadfly. Nothing more. I believe that Batman remains as our only significant obstacle."

"Good. Proceed with the plan as scheduled then. Keep me informed as to any changes."

"Of course, Master."

The line went dead. As he hung up the phone, Dr. Strange glanced up towards his TV. Speak of the Devil, Edward Nigma was being interviewed by that insipid Vicki Vale about his role in Horner's apprehension. Dr. Strange sneered as Nigma ate up the attention he received from the reporter. "Nothing's changed. You really are still that little boy seeking validation, aren't you?"

On the television, Vale pressed a question to the private detective. "Mr. Nigma, there's been many voices in the GCPD, including Commissioner Gordon, who have expressed doubts about how genuine your reform is? Do you think that your solving such a high profile case will lead to greater acceptance of you from the GCPD and from Gotham at large?"

There was a slight twitch of Nigma's left eyebrow as he formulated an answer. It was such a slight movement, that Vale no doubt failed to notice. Dr. Strange however, didn't. "It's not just the GCPD who have doubts, is it Mr. Nigma?"

"Well, while I certainly wouldn't mind a little less hostility from the authorities, I didn't decide to reform to get on their good side. As long as I can use my intellect to solve challenging cases, I can't complain about my lot in life too much."

Hollow words from a hollow man, Dr. Strange thought. He let a grin come to his face as he watched the rest of Nigma's interview. Nigma's behavior during his partnership with Sharp had proven that the man could not be controlled. If he could not be controlled, he would be broken and contained. "I will see you in Arkham again very soon, Mr. Nigma. It's only a matter of time.

"Commissioner Gordon will see you in a few minutes, Dr. Young."

Penelope nodded at the secretary. "Thank you." She settled in her chair in the waiting room just outside the GCPD bullpen. It had been two weeks since the events at the Arkham memorial and she'd had a lot on her mind since then. After much thought and more than one long conversation with Joan and with her mother, Penelope had found herself here at GCPD, ready to take Gordon up on his offer for her to consult with GCPD.

And to think, she had Edward Nigma of all people to thank. She didn't want to admit it at the time, but the man was right. As guilty as she felt, as she still felt for what had transpired at Arkham that night and for Horner's rampage, she didn't want to just lie down and die. She'd always been, as her mother put it, too stubborn for her own good. Slayer of regrets, old and new, sought by many, found by few. She wasn't sure if redemption for what she'd done was really possible, but if there was anything she could do to even begin to make up for what she'd done, the GCPD was the best place to do it. No matter what promises Sharp may have made her in the weeks since the memorial, she would never go back to Arkham.

"Dr. Young?"

She looked up to see the secretary from before.

"Commissioner Gordon's ready for you. Follow me."

Dr. Young followed the secretary around the bull pen, taking stock of the officers who may soon be her co-workers. They were mostly busing themselves with their tasks, although there was one large, rather unkempt officer offering rather choice commentary on Batman to anyone who would listen. Finally, she was stopped in front of Gordon's door. The secretary knocked.

"Yes?" a voice called from inside.

"Dr. Young's here, Commissioner." the secretary announced.

"Good, send her in."

The secretary opened the door for Dr. Young, then returned to her desk. Dr. Young entered the office to see Commissioner Gordon finishing up paperwork. When he saw her enter, he got out of his desk and went to shake her hand.

"Good to see you again Dr. Young," he said amiably. "What can I do for you?"

Penelope took a deep breath. She still wasn't sure if she should be doing this. But, if even someone as self-centered as Edward Nigma could prove to have a shred of human decency, maybe there was hope for her yet. "I wanted to speak with you about the job offer."

End


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